LIBRARY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
PAVIS 


AMERICA  ILLUSTRATED 


EDITED     BY 


J.   DAVID   WILLIAMS 


NEW  YORK 

J.   DAVID  WILLIAMS 

38  NEW  STREET 

1877 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


CONTENTS   AND    LIST   OF    ENGRAVINGS. 


PAGE. 

TITLE  PAGE l 

CONTENTS  AND  LIST  OF  ENGRAVINGS 3 

PREFACE 5 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE 7 

THE  LOWER  FALLS 7 

THE  LOWER  CANON 

THE  GRAND  CANON 9 

CRYSTAL  FALLS      IO 

YELLOWSTONE  LAKE " 

THE  HUDSON  RIVER  AT  WEST  POINT 12 

VIEW  OF  THE  HUDSON  FROM  THE  VICINITY  OF  WEST  POINT 13 

NATURAL  BRIDGE,  VIRGINIA 14 

THE  NATURAL  BRIDGE - IS 

TRENTON  HIGH  FALLS,  NEW  YORK  .  .  .' 17 

PANORAMA  OF  TRENTON  FALLS 19 

SQUAM  LAKE,  NEW  HAMPSHIRE 20 

SQUAM  LAKE 2I 

THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS 20 

SILVER  CASCADE,  CRAWFORD'S  NOTCH 23 

MOUNT  WASHINGTON  AND  THE  WHITE  HILLS  . 24 

MOUNT  WASHINGTON  RAILWAY 25 

THE  DEPOT  AND  SUMMIT  HOUSE,  MT.  WASHINGTON 25 

LAKE  GEORGE 27 

ROGER'S  SLIDE,  LAKE  GEORGE 29 

MAMMOTH  CAVE,  KENTUCKY    : 30 

THE  ENTRANCE 30 

THE  CHURCH 3' 

THE  DEAD  SEA 32 

THE  BOTTOMLESS  PIT          .......                 33 

MINOT'S  LEDGE  LIGHTHOUSE,  MASSACHUSETTS 34 

MINOT'S  LEDGE  LIGHTHOUSE 35 

NIAGARA  FALLS 37 

THE  RAPIDS  ABOVE  THE  FALLS ' 38 

ON  THE  ROCKS  BELOW  THE  AMERICAN  FALLS 39 

GRAND  VIEW  OF  THE  HORSESHOE  (CANADIAN)  AND  AMERICAN  FALLS  ....  40 

EAST  RIVER  SUSPENSION  BRIDGE 41 

THE  SUSPENSION  BRIDGE  CONNECTING  BROOKLYN  WITH  NEW  YORK      ....  43 

DOWN  THE  MISSISSIPPI  RIVER 44 

THE  FALLS  OF  ST.  ANTHONY 45 

DOWN  THE  MISSISSIPPI  RIVER ' 46 

THE   RAFT 47 

THE  BRIDGE  ACROSS  THE  MISSISSIPPI  AT  ST.  LOUIS 48 

"WOODING  UP" •  5° 

THE  LEVEE 5' 

REMOVING  SNAGS  BY  DREDGING 52 

SCENE  AT  BATON  ROUGE  DURING  THE  FLOODS  OF  1874 53 

HOT  SPRINGS  AND  GEYSERS  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE 54 

THE  HOT  SPRINGS  NEAR  GARDINER'S  RIVER •  54 

GREAT  FALLS  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE 55 

BOILING  SULPHUR  SPRINGS        .                          56 

HOT  SPRING  CONE ' , 57 


4  CONTENTS  AND   LIST   OF  ENGRAVINGS. 

PAGE 

GIANT  GEYSER 58 

CASTLE  GEYSER  AND  FIRE  BASIN  ...                 59 

THE  GROTTO  .                                   60 

THE  EAST  RIVER 61 

GOVERNMENT  BUILDINGS  ON  WARD'S  ISLAND    . 62 

OPENING  OF  THE  SHAFT  BENEATH  HELL  GATE 64 

THE  YOSEMITE  VALLEY 65 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  YOSEMITE 67 

YOSEMITE  FALLS 69 

MIRROR  LAKE  AND  MOUNT  WATKINS 70 

EL  CAPITAN  FROM  MERCED  RIVER 70 

BIG  TREE 71 

SARATOGA  SPRINGS  AND  SARATOGA  LAKE 73 

DUCK  SHOOTING  ON  SARATOGA  LAKE 72 

A  FEEDER  TO  THE  LAKE 74 

PERCH  FISHING  ON  THE  LAKE 74 

FISHING  FROM  A  SAIL-BOAT 75 

THE  PROPOSED  CENTENNIAL  EXHIBITION  AT  PHILADELPHIA  ...  75 

PHILADELPHIA  FROM  FAIRMOUNT  PARK 77 

THE  REGION  OF  THE  JUNIATA  78 

PEACE  AND  PLENTY 78 

SCENE  ON  A  CREEK  EMPTYING  INTO  LITTLE  JUNIATA .  79 

THE  LITTLE  JUNIATA  AT  TYRONE 80 

NIAGARA  FALLS :    PAST  AND  FUTURE 81 

A  NIGHT  VIEW  OF  NIAGARA  IN  OLDEN  TIME 83 

SABBATH-DAY  POINT,  LAKE  GEORGE 85 

VIEW  OF  SABBATH-DAY  POINT,  LAKE  GEORGE 86 

THE  ERIE  CANAL 87 

GRAIN-BOAT  ON  THE  ERIE  CANAL  ... 8' 

BLUFF  ON  THE  ERIE  CANAL  NEAR  LiTTLE  FALLS 9« 

IN  THE  ADIRONDACKS 92 

IN  THE  WILDS 93 

UPPER  AUSABLE  LAKE '.....  95 

DEER  ON  LAKE  ST.  REGIS  AT  NIGHT 97 

THE  WONDERS  OF  THE  COLORADO  RIVER     ...              .....  99 

DISTANT  VIEW  OF  MOQUI,  WITH  SHEEP-PENS  IN  THE  FORE-GROUND  101 

ANOTHER  VIEW  OF  MOQUI 103 

THE  GRAND  CANON       .                 105 

LUMBERING  ON  THE  SUSQUEH ANNA 106 

MAKING  UP  RAFTS  ON  THE  SUSQUEHANNA  RIVER          .        .        .        ...        .        r        .  107 

THE  HUDSON  RIVER 108 

THE  PALISADES tog 

STONY  POINT tio 

ENTRANCE  TO  THE  HIGHLANDS  NEAR  NEWBURGH in 

POUGHKEEPSIE in 

PROPOSED  BRIDGE  ACROSS  THE  HUDSON  AT  POUGHKEEPSIE 113 

SUNSET  ROCK,  CATSKILL  MOUNTAINS 114 

THE  GREAT  LAKES  AND  THElfc.  GREAT  CITIES 115 

MAIN  STREET,   BUFFALO,  OPPOSITE  THE  CHURCHES 115 

BUFFALO  HARBOR,  FROM  THE  BREAKWATER 116 

BUFFALO  CREEK,  LOOKING  OUT 117 

VIEW  OF  MILWAUKEE  BAY,  LAKE  MICHIGAN 118 

MILWAUKEE  RIVER 119 

GRAIN-VESSELS  LEAVING  CHICAGO                                    120 


PREFACE. 


AMERICA  ILLUSTRATED  is  intended  to  make  the  people  acquainted  with  the  superb  creations  of  Nature 
that  distinguish  this  country  above  all  others.  With  such  an  extraordinary  richness  of  material  we  regret 
owing  to  our  book  being  produced  at  a  price  intended  to  place  it  within  tbe  reach  of  the  million,  and  that, 
our  space  being,  therefore,  somewhat  circumscribed,  our  attention  has  necessarily  been  confined  to  the  most 
prominent  types  of  scenery.  We  have,  however,  endeavored  in  all  cases  to  select,  as  the  subject  of  our 
illustrations,  those  landscapes  whose  names  have  for  years  been  familiar  to  our  ears  as  household  words, 
but  of  whose  sublime  beauty  and  magnificence  the  great  mass  of  our  population  have  had  no  adequate 
conception.  Descriptions,  without  illustrations,  are  indeed  "songs  without  words." 

Within  the  last  three  years  a  wonderful  portion  of  the  earth's  surface,  of  previously  hidden  and,  indeed, 
almost  unsuspected  beauty,  has  been  opened  up  by  the  persevering  efforts  of  a  body  of  explorers  selected 
from  among  men  of  science  and  adventure.  The  Yellowstone  Region,  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  is  described 
by  those  who  have  visited  it  as  superior  to  all  the  other  wonders  of  the  American  continent ;  and  it  does, 
in  reality,  fulfill  the  most  extravagant  of  the.  suppositions  to  which  its  concealed  marvels  gave  rise.  For 
more  than  sixty  years,  ever  since  the  existence  of  a  lake,  which  they  held  to  be  the  source  of  the  Yellowstone 
River,  was  established  in  1806  by  the  celebrated  explorers,  Captains  Clark  and  Lewis,  these  marvels  were 
vaguely  hinted  at  and  surmised.  But  the  mystery  is  a  mystery  no  longer,  and  from  the  official  records  of 
the  Government  we  have  compiled  an  account  of  what  the  brave  men  saw  who  penetrated  to  the  valley, 
on  whose  south  side  are  the  Wind  River  Mountains,  a  snow  clad  barrier  which  no  white  man  had  ever 
crossed  (prior  to  the  expedition  of  Captain  Jones,  in  1873,  these  solitudes  were  thought  impassable)  ;  on 
whose  eastern  side  is  the  Snowy  Mountain  Range  and  a  grand  cluster  of  volcanic  peaks  ;  on  whose  north 
side  are  the  Gallatiii  Range  and  the  vast  parallel  ridges  through  which  the  tributaries  of  the  Missouri  pass 
northward. 

This  is  only  one  of  thirty  sections  of  our  country  which  we  have  selected  as  the  subject  matter  for 
description  and  for  the  profuse  illustrations  that  illustrate  the  text.  On  this  continent  nature  has  been  so 
fantastic  in  many  of  her  works,  and  has  scattered  her  beauties  around  with  such  lavish  profusion,  that,  to 
the  true  lover  of  the  picturesque,  America  presents  charms  unknown  to  other  lands.  The  grandeur  and 
vastness  of  our  mountains,  the  large  featured  sublimity  of  the  scenery  of  many  of  our  rivers,  so  majestic 
in  the  fulness  and  evenness  of  their  flow  ;  the  great  extent  of  our  wonderful  underground  caverns  ;  the 
awfulness  of  the  canons  to  be  found  in  our  Western  Territories,  many  of  which  have  been  but  recently, 
and  with  great  difficulty  and  danger,  explored  ;  the  immensity  of  our  lakes,  beyond  all  comparison  the 
largest  in  the  world  ;  all  these  present  a  field  which  surpasses  any  other  in  richness  of  picturesque,  and 
show  that  Nature  has  wrought  with  a  bolder  hand  in  this  land  than  in  those  which  boast  of  an  older  civiliza- 
tion. 

It  is  upon  the  faithful  rendition  of  these  features,  and  of  the  most  sublime  of  these  beauties  that  we 
rest  the  success  of  our  enterprise.  For  over  a  year  some  of  the  most  celebrated  arists  and  wood  engravers 
of  the  metropolis  have  been  engaged  in  the  preparation  of  the  beautiful  engravings  that  illustrate  the  text 
of  the  volume,  and  a  glance  at  the  result  of  their  labors  will  show,  even  to  those  inexperienced  in  such 
matters,  that  the  finest  order  of  wood  engraving  approaches  very  closely  the  more  ambitious  efforts  on  steel. 

The  text  has  been  printed  from  new  type  made  expressly  for  this  purpose,  upon  heavy  toned  and  extra 
calendered  paper,  and  the  result  is  a  volume  which,  in  sumptuous  appearance  and  intrinsic  merit,  will  bear 
comparison  with  books  which  are  sold  in  the  book  and  fine  art  stores  for  TEN  DOLLARS. 


AMERICA     ILLUSTRATED. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE. 


w 


The  Lower  Fail.,. 


ITHIN     the     last 
three  years  a  won- 
derful portion  of  the  earth's 
surface,  of  previously  hid- 
den  and,    indeed,    almost 
unsuspected    beauty,   has 
been   opened   up,  by  the 
persevering    efforts    of   a 
body  of  explorers,  selected 
from  among  men  of   sci- 
ence and  adventure.    The 
Yellowstone  Region  in  the 
Rocky   Mountains   is   de- 
scribed by  those  who  have 
visited  it  as  superior  to  all 
other  wonders  of  the  American 
and  it  does,  in  reality,  ful- 
fil the  most  extravagant  of  the  suppo- 
sitions to  which  its  concealed  marvels 
gave  rise.    For  more  than  sixty  years, 
ever  since   the   existence  of   a  lake, 
which  they  held  to  be  the  source  of 
the  Yellowstone  River,  was  established 
in    1806  by  the  celebrated  explorers 
Captains    Clarke   and     Lewis,    these 
marvels  were  vaguely  hinted  at  and 
surmised.     But  the  mystery  is  a  mys- 
tery no  longer  ;  and  the  official  records 
of  the  government  tell  us  what  the 
brave  men  saw  who  penetrated  to  the 
valley,  on  whose  south  side  are  the 
Wind  River  Mountains,  a  snow-clad 
^'f'      barrier  which  no  white  man  had  ever 
crossed  (prior  to  the  expedition  of  Captain  Jones   in 
1873,  these   solitudes   were   thought   impassable);    on 
whose  eastern  side  is  the  Snowy  Mountain  Range,  and 
a  grand  cluster  of  volcanic  peaks  ;  on  whose  north  side 
are  the  Gallatin   Range  and   the  vast   parallel   ridges 
through    which   the   tributaries   of    the    Missouri   pass 
northward. 

It  was  the  exceptional  difficulties  which  had  to  be 
surmounted  before  the  Yellowstone  Basin  could  be 
reached,  that  caused  exploring  expeditions  to  neglect  it 
for  so  long  a  period.  The  Valley  is  walled  in,  as  be- 
fore stated,  by  almost  impassable  mountain  ranges.  The 
famous  western  guide,  Bridger,  declared  that  a  direc? 


8 


THE    VALLEY  OF    THE    YELLOWSTONE. 


route  from  Lower  Wyoming  was  an  absolute  impossibility,  and  that  a  crow  could  not  fly  over  it, 
unless  it  took  provisions  along.  The  first  exploring  party  under  Professor  Hayden  (1870)  were 
compelled  to  take  an  exceedingly  circuitous  route,  and  to  consume  much  time  in  following  it.  They 
went  north  in  Montana  as  far  as  Fort  Ellis,  and  then  approached  the  Park  from  the  upper  side, 
fully  four  hundred  miles  out  of  the  direct  road.  This  apparent  impassability  has  been  the  germ  from 
which  grew  the  marvelous  stories  told  by  western  hunters  and  guides,  and  has  made  it,  in  the  eyes 
of  the  savages,  an  abode  of  evil  spirits. 

The  expedition  of  Captain  Jones,  in  the  summer  of  1873,  demonstrated,  however,  that  even 
guides  are  not  infallible,  and  that  Prof.  Hayden  had  unnecessarily  lengthened  his  journey.  The 
Jones  party  broke  camp  at  Fort  Bridger,  Wyoming,  on  June  I2th,  and  proceeded  in  a  north-easterly 
direction  as  far  as  the  Valley  of  the  Popo  Agie.  There  the  explorers  changed  their  route,  proceed- 
ing northwest  to  Two-Ocean  Pass,  and  from  thence  north  into  the  Yellowstone  Basin.  The  most 
important  fact  developed  by  this  expedition  is  that  a  railroad  is  practicable  through  the  Wind  River 
Valley  across  the  foot-hills  at  the  base  of  the  Sierra  Shoshone  Mountains.  The  country  at  this 
point  is  well  watered  and  timbered,  and  the  soil  is  very  rich — features  which  distinguish  it  strongly 
from  the  waste  and  barren  regions  that  surround  it. 

The  history  of  the  discovery  of  this  region  is  as  follows  :  "  In  1870,  some  of  the  officials  and 
leading  citizens  of  the  territory  of  Montana  organized  the  expedition  known  as  the  Hayden  Expedi- 
tion, which,  accompanied  by  a  small  escort  of  cavalry,  started  from  Fort  Ellis,  a  frontier  military 
post,  beyond  which  civilization  did  not  then  extend,  and  in  thirty  days  explored  the  canons  of  the 
Yellowstone  Valley,  and  the  shores  of  Yellowstone  Lake  ;  then  crossing  the  mountains  to  the  head- 
waters of  the  Madison,  they  visited  the  geyser  regions  of  Firehole  River,  and  ascended  that  stream 
to  its  junction  with  the  Madison,  along  whose  valley  they  returned  to  civilization,  confident  that  they 
had  seen  the  greatest  wonders  on  the  continent,  and  convinced  that  there  was  not  on  the  globe  an- 
other region  where,  within  the  same  limits,  nature  had  crowded  so  much  of  grandeur  and  majesty 
with  so  much  of  novelty  and  wonder." 

This  does  not  seem  to  be  an  exaggerated  estimate  of  the  scenes  which  revealed  themselves  to 
this  and  a  second  expedition  which  set  out  in  the  following  year,  led  by  Colonel  Barlow,  the  chief 
engineer,  and  under  special  orders  from  General  Sheridan  ;  and  starting,  as  the  former  expedition 
had  done,  from  Fort  Ellis,  ascended  Gardiner's  River,  and  found  themselves  in  a  region  of  hot 
springs,  the  deposits  from  which  cover  the  hillsides  with  quaint  samples  of  natural  architecture,  form- 
ing a  fitting  introduction  to  the  grander  marvels  of  the  valley.  The  deposit  is  snowy  white,  and  has 
the  form  of  a  frozen  cascade.  The  springs  now  in  active  operation  cover  an  area  of  one  square  mile, 
while  three  or  four  miles  are  occupied  by  the  remains  of  springs  which  have  ceased  to  flow.  These 

springs  had  been  overlooked  by  the  former  ex- 
ploring party,  so  that  they  were  actually  first  dis- 
covered in  1871,  and  they  have  already  become  the 
resort  of  many  invalids,  who  speak  highly  of  the 
virtues  of  the  waters.  They  are  at  a  height  of  six 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea ;  and  south  of  them 
rises  a  domelike  mountain  two  thousand  feet  higher, 
whose  summit  commands  a  view  of  fifty  miles  in 
every  direction.  From  this  summit  the  party 
descended  into  the  Yellowstone  Valley,  by  a  path 
which  combines  every  variety  of  beauty,  boldness, 
fertility,  grandeur,  and  gloom  ;  and  includes  an 
elevated  plateau  thirty  miles  in  extent,  dotted  with 
groves  of  pine  and  aspen,  with  numerous  beauti- 
ful little  lakes  scattered  throughout  its  extent,  and 
many  springs,  which  flow  down  the  slopes,  and  are 
lost  in  the  vast  volume  of  the  Yellowstone.  In 
their  passage  over  this  plateau  the  party  came  to  a 
terrific  rift  —  a  preparation  for  the  incomparable 
awfulness  of  the  Grand  Canon,  which  lay  before 
them — a  rift  two  thousand  feet  in  depth,  with  the 
The  Lower  Cafion.  river  rolling  in  its  deeps,  over  volcanic  boulders,  in 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE. 


The  Grand  Canon. 


some  places ;  and  in  others,  forming  fathomless 
still  pools.  Small  cascades  tumble  at  different 
points  from  the  rocky  walls,  and  the  river  appears 
from  the  lofty  summits  a  mere  ribbon  of  foam  in 
the  immeasurable  distance.  "  Standing  on  the 
brink  of  the  chasm,"  writes  one  of  the  party,  "the 
heavy  roaring  of  the  imprisoned  river  comes  to  the 
ear  only  in  a  sort  of  hollow,  hungry  growl,  scarcely 
audible  from  the  depths.  Everything  beneath  has 
a  weird  and  deceptive  appearance.  The  water 
does  not  look  like  water,  but  like  oil.  Numerous 
fish-hawks  are  seen  busily  plying  their  vocation, 
sailing  high  above  the  waters,  and  yet  a  thousand 
feet  below  the  spectator.  In  the  clefts  of  the 
rocks,  hundreds  of  feet  down,  bald  eagles  have 
their  eyries,  from  which  one  can  see  them  swooping 
still  farther  into  the  depths,  to  rob  the  ospreys  of 
their  hard-earned  trout."  A  grand,  gloomy,  terrible 
place  ;  peopled  with  fantastic  ideas,  full  of  sha- 
dows and  turmoil.  At  the  head  of  this  canon  is 
the  beautiful  cataract  which  the  explorers  called 
the  Tower  Falls,  which,  though  its  sheer  fall  is 

four  hundred  feet,  is  so  hidden  away  in  the  dim  light  of  overshadowing  rocks  and  woods,  its  very 
voice  hushed  to  a  low  murmur,  that  men  might  pass  within  half  a  mile  of  it,  and  not  dream  of  its 
existence. 

But  not  until  the  Grand  Canon  is  reached  are  the  wonder  and  the  dread  of  the  region  to  be 
realized.  Two  of  the  explorers  accomplished  a  descent  into  its  fearful  abyss  at  a  point  where  the 
chasm  is  one  thousand  one  hundred  and  ninety  feet  deep.  Their  ascent  was  most  perilous,  but  the 
spectacle  revealed  to  them  was  worth  the  risk.  On  entering  the  ravine,  they  came  to  hot  springs  of 
sulphur,  sulphate  of  copper,  alum,  steam-jets  in  endless  variety,  some  of  them  of  very  peculiar  form. 
One  of  them,  that  of  sulphur,  had  built  up  a  tall  spire,  standing  out  from  the  slope  of  the  wall  like 
an  enormous  horn,  with  hot  water  trickling  down  its  sides.  They  descended  the  channel  of  the  creek 
for  three  miles,  and  were  now  one  thousand  five  hundred  feet  below  the  brink,  and  after  four  hours 
of  hard  toil,  reached  the  bottom  of  the  gulf,  and  the  margin  of  the  Yellowstone,  where  they  found 
the  water  warm,  and  tasting  of  alum  and  sulphur.  The  river-margin  is  lined  with  all  kinds  of  chem- 
ical springs,  some  depositing  craters  of  calcareous  rock,  others  muddy,  black,  blue,  or  reddish  water. 
"  The  internal  heat,"  says  Lieutenant  Doane,  "  renders  the  atmosphere  oppressive,  though  a  strong 
breeze  drives  through  the  canon.  A  frying  sound  comes  constantly  to  the  ear,  mingled  with  the  rush 
of  the  current.  We  had  come  down  the  ravine  at  least  four  miles,  and  looking  upward,  the  fearful 
wall  appeared  to  reach  the  sky.  It  was  3  P.  M.  and  stars  could  be  distinctly  seen,  so  much  of  the 
sunlight  was  cut  off  from  entering  the  chasm.  Tall  pines  on  the  extreme  verge  appeared  the  height 
of  two  or  three  feet.  The  total  depth  is  probably  three  thousand  feet.  There  are  perhaps  other 
canons  longer  and  deeper  than  this  one,  but  surely  none  combining  grandeur  and  immensity  with 
such  peculiarity  of  formation  and  profusion  of  volcanic  or  chemical  phenomena."  The  geologist  of 
the  party,  Dr.  Hayden,  thus  reads  the  history  of  this  tremendous  chasm :  "  Ages  ago,  this  whole 
region  was  the  basin  of  an  immense  lake.  Then  it  became  a  centre  of  volcanic  activity ;  a  vast 
quantity  of  lava  was  erupted,  which,  cooling  under  water,  took  the  form  of  basalt ;  volumes  of  vol- 
canic ash  and  rock  fragments  were  thrown  out  of  the  craters  from  time  to  time,  forming  breccia  as 
it  sunk  through  the  water  and  mingled  with  the  deposits  from  silicious  springs.  Over  this  were 
spread  the  later  deposits  from  the  waters  of  the  old  lake.  In  time  the  country  was  slowly  elevated, 
and  the  lake  was  drained  away.  The  easily  eroded  breccia  along  the  river  channel  was  cut  out 
deeper  and  deeper  as  the  ages  passed  ;  while  springs,  and  creeks,  and  the  falling  rain  combined  to 
carve  the  sides  of  the  canon  into  the  fantastic  forms  they  now  present,  by  wearing  away  the  softer 
rock,  and  leaving  the  hard  basalt  and  the  firmer  hot  spring  deposits  standing  in  massive  columns  and 
Gothic  pinnacles.  The  basis  material  of  the  old  hot  spring  deposits  in  silica,  originally  white  as 
snow,  are  now  stained  by  mineral  waters  with  every  shade  of  red  and  yellow — from  scarlet  to  rose 


IO 


THE    VALLEY  OF    THE    YELLOWSTONE. 


color,  from  bright  sulphur  to  the  daintiest  tint  of  cream.  When  the  light  falls  on  these  blended 
tints,  the  Grand  Canon  presents  a  more  enchanting  and  bewildering  variety  of  forms  and  colors  than 
human  artist  ever  conceived." 

Awful  as  it  is  to  look  upwards  from  the  depths  of  the  Grand  Canon,  it  is  infinitely  more  so  to 
gaze  downwards  from  its  terrific  verge.  From  the  silent  horror  of  the  effort,  the  strong  brave  men 
of  the  exploring  party  shrank  in  agony,  crawling  backward  from  the  edge  in  undisguised  terror,  and 
hardly  able  to  realize  their  safety. 

The  grandeur  of  the  canon  is  at  once 
heightened  and  diversified  by  the  mag- 
nitude and  beauty  of  its  Upper  and 
Lower  Falls ;  the  latter  are  especially 
striking.  The  sheet  of  water  falls  sheer 
three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  (with  a  like 
height  of  terr  ble  wall  rising  above  it), 
in  one  unbroken  symmetrical  expanse, 
covered  with  white  foam,  while  rainbows 
are  formed  in  the  spray  from  almost  every 
point  of  view  ;  and  the  steep  rocks  near, 
constantly  wet  with  rising  mist,  are  cov- 
ered with  bright  green  vegetation.  The 
Upper  and  Lower  Falls  are  only  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  apart,  the  former  turning  over  a 
precipice  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high. 
The  scene  at  the  Lower  Falls  is  grandly 
beautiful.  On  either  side  the  walls  of 
the  canon  rise  to  a  height  of  nearly  a 
thousand  feet,  while  far  below  the  turbid 
waters  of  the  stream  writhe  and  eddy 
along  their  winding  course.  Mountain 
pines  cover  the  steep  banks,  while  here 
and  there  the  withered  trunk  of  a  dead 
tree  extends  its  white  form  over  the  foam- 
ing waters.  You  can  not  approach  with- 
in a  hundred  yards  of  the  Falls  without 
becoming  thoroughly  drenched  by  the 
continual  shower  of  snowy  spray.  Far 
below  the  Canon  continues,  seemingly  a 
great  fissure  that  'was  rent  in  the  solid 
rock  during  some  volcanic  convulsion, 
leaving  on  either  side  the  jagged  walls  of 
granite  and  basalt. 

The  three  principal  lakes  in  the  Park  are  the  Yellowstone,  Mystic  and  Shadow.  The  shape  of 
Yellowstone  Lake  is  exceedingly  irregular,  and  one  is  constantly  surprised  at  coming  suddenly  upon 
broad  bays  and  inlets  that  extend  far  into  the  land.  Of  this  lovely  sheet  of  water,  which  has,  in  eleva 
tion,  but  one  rival,  the  South  American  lake  Titicaca,  the  engineer-in-chief  of  the  Hayden  (1870) 
party,  thus  eloquently  writes  :  "  Secluded  amid  the  loftiest  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  possess- 
ing strange  peculiarities  of  form  and  beauty,  this  watery  solitude  is  one  of  the  most  attractive  natural 
objects  in  the  world.  Its  southern  shore,  indented  with  long  narrow  inlets,  not  unlike  the  frequent 
fiords  of  Iceland,  bears  testimony  to  the  awful  upheaval  and  tumultuous  force  of  the  elements  which 
resulted  in  its  creation.  The  long  pine-crowned  promontories,  stretching  into  it  from  the  base  of 
the  hills,  lend  new  and  charming  features  to  an  aquatic  scene  full  of  novelty  and  splendor.  Islands 
of  emerald  hue  dot  its  surface,  and  a  margin  of  sparkling  sand  forms  its  jeweled  setting.  The  winds, 
compressed  in  their  passage  through  the  mountain  gorges,  lash  it  into  a  sea  as  terrible  as  the  fretted 
ocean,  covering  it  with  foam."  But  it  lay  before  the  explorers,  when  they  saw  it  first,  calm  and 
unruffled,  the  most  beautiful  object  which  their  toilsome  journey  had  revealed.  No  fish  save  trout 
live  in  its  waters,  but  they  are  thronged  with  waterfowl ;  great  fleets  of  white  swans  and  pelican  sail 


Crystal  Tails. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE. 


ii 


over  its  bosom,  and 
crowd  its  islets. 
The  great  river 
flows  away  from  it 
in  a  deep  and  easy 
channel,  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  wide ; 
its  superficial  area 
is  three  hundred 
square  miles.  The 
Lake  gives  the 
strongest  geologi- 
cal evidence  of  hav- 
ing been,  at  some 
remote  period,  a 
great  inland  sea. 
It  is  fed  by  the 
mountain  snows, 
and  Prof.  Hayden 
reports  that  his 
deepest  soundings 
were  at  three  hun- 
dred feet.  The  wa- 
ter is  a  shade  be- 
tween dark  green 
and  blue. 

The  descriptions 
given  by  Professor 
Hayden,  Captain 
Jones,  Langford, 
Stevens  and  others 
who  have  been  con- 
nected with  vari- 
ous exploring  par- 
ties, glow  with  en- 
thusiasm. They 
speak  in  the  warm- 
est language  of  the 
grandeur  of  this 
remarkable  region. 
Springs  are  most 
abundant,  and 
sometimes  hun- 
dreds can  be  found 
within  the  com- 
pass of  a  few  rods, 
and  hot  and  cold 
springs  are  often 
seen  within  a  few 
feet  of  each  other. 
"  The  mountains 
are  Gothic  pala- 
ces, with  twelve  or 
fifteen  feet  ter- 
races, thousands 
of  times  larger 


12  THE  HUDSON  RIVER  A  T  WEST  POINT. 

than  any  ever  attempted  by  human  hands ;  cathedrals,  some  with  numerous  minarets  ;  enormous 
castles  pitched  on  the  higher  hills,  which  are  shaped  perfectly  like  cones,  and  densely  covered  with 
forests  of  pine,  giving  their  slopes  a  beautiful  green  color  that  contrasts  strikingly  with  the  brown 
tops  ;  walled  gateways  from  below  curved  up  to  the  summit ;  pavilions  surmounting  the  smaller  hills 
and  looking  like  delightful  summer  resorts ;  fortifications  around  the  bases,  arranged  sometimes  in 
series,  one  above  the  other  ;  one  gigantic  and  perfectly  shaped  pyramid,  excelling  vastly  the  famous 
ones  of  Egypt — all  shaped  out  of  dark-brown  metamorphic  sand  and  limestone." 

That  portion  of  the  Valley  of  the  Yellowstone  which  has  been  set  aside  for  a  National  Park 
comprises  about  3,500  square  miles  of  territory  near  the  head- waters  of  the  river  that  gives  the  region 
its  name.  Our  attempt  at  description  may  be  briefly  summarized  :  There  are  vast  gloomy  canons 
through  whose  gorges  rush  the  waters  of  numerous  mountain  streams ;  walls  of  basaltic  rock  and 
granite  rising  in  wild  grandeur  to  the  height  of  many  hundreds  of  feet ;  placid  lakes  whose  waters 
present  for  miles  on  miles  surfaces  of  glassy  smoothness,  in  strange  contrast  with  the  chaotic 
scenes  around  them  ;  wonderful  springs  that  send  up  unceasingly  volumes  of  gray  mud,  and  geysers 
and  glaciers  that  surpass  those  of  Iceland.  These  form  a  panorama  of  physical  marvels  that  will  be 
interesting  alike  to  the  scientist  and  the  tourist.  What  Mont  Blanc  and  the  Alps  have  been  to  the 
pleasure-seekers  of  the  Old  World,  the  Yellowstone  Valley  will  be  to  those  of  the  New.  Its  rugged 
magnificence  will  be  a  never-failing  source  of  inspiration  for  painter  and  poet,  and  when  civilization 
has  built  cities  and  marts  of  trade  in  the  Western  wilds  that  are  now  but  thinly  settled,  and  a  thor- 
ough system  of  communication  has  been  established  between  the  Eastern  sea-ports  and  all  parts  of 
our  broad  land  toward  the  National  Park,  wanderers  from  all  over  the  world  will  turn  their  faces 
hitherward  to  view  Nature  in  her  grandest  shrine* 


THE  HUDSON  RIVER  AT  WEST  POINT. 

SINCE  the  time  when  Hendrick  Hudson  first  sailed  up  the  broad  stream  that  bears  his  name,  it 
has  been  a  river  of  romance.  The  graceful  prose  of  Irving  has  bestowed  fame  upon  the  Head- 
less Horseman  and  the  sleepy  good-for-naught  Rip  Van  Winkle,  and  many  poetic  recollections 
cluster  about  the  quiet  waters  and  picturesque  banks.  The  river  flows  through  landscapes  of  varied 
beauty,  and  on  either  side,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  the  dark  outlines  of  the  Kaatskills  and  High- 
lands loom  up.  The  bosom  of  the  stream  is  dotted  with  the  white  sails  of  yachts  and  pleasure-boats, 
and  its  silence  is  often  broken  by  the  steady  paddle-stroke  of  the  stately  steamboats  that  ply  be- 
tween the  towns  and  cities  on  its  shores.  Our  artist  has  taken  as  his  subject  for  illustration  the  most 
beautiful  and  historically  the  most  interesting  portion  of  the  river — West  Point  in  the  Highlands. 

The  history  of  the  spot  on  which  the  famous  military  academy  stands  is  very  romantic.  Its 
natural  strength  made  it  a  valuable  site  for  a  fortress,  and  the  Continental  Congress  ordered  the 
erection  of  Fort  Putnam  at  a  point  598  feet  above  the  level  of  the  river,  commanding  a  view  of  the 
surrounding  country  for  many  miles.  An  approach  from  the  Hudson  was  made  well  nigh  impossible 
by  an  almost  perpendicular  wall  of  rock,  while  on  the  western  and  south-western  side  the  steep  hills 
formed  a  strong  barrier.  A  small  force  could  hold  the  position  for  a  long  time  against  an  enemy 
much  superior.  Above  the  fort,  on  a  higher  plateau,  Fort  Clinton  and  the  other  fortifications  were 
built,  forming  altogether  one  cf  the  most  formidable  strongholds  in  the  world. 

That  this  important  point  came  near  being  treacherously  surrendered  to  the  British  in  1780,  is  a 
familiar  fact  to  readers  of  American  history.  It  was  in  command  of  Benedict  Arnold,  a  man  whose 
dissipation  had  plunged  him  deeply  into  debt,  and  who  was  ready  to  betray  his  trust  for  the  double 
purpose  of  replenishing  his  purse  and  gratifying  his  private  revenge.  It  is  well  known  how  nearly 
he  succeeded,  and  how  finally  he  failed.  Major  Andre,  whom  he  was  to  meet  to  perfect  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  delivery  of  the  fortress,  was  captured  by  three  American  soldiers,  and  the  plot  was 
discovered. 

Washington  was  to  have  made  a  visit  of  inspection  to  Fort  Putnam  and  the  other  redoubts  on 
this  side  the  river,  only  two  or  three  hours  before  his  discovery  of  the  treason  of  Arnold,  at  that 
moment  as  he  supposed  in  command  at  West  Point.  The  commander-in-chief  was  expected  to 


0 

0, 


w 
[I. 

0 


H 

5 

0 


u 

X 
h 

2 
0 
E 
U. 


0 

s 


W 

x 

h 

u. 
0 


H  THE  NATURAL  BRIDGE  IN  VIRGINIA. 

arrive  the  evening  before,  and  had  he  done  so,  Arnold  would  probably  never  have  escaped.  Having 
accidentally  met  the  French  minister,  M.  ,de  Lucerne,  at  Fishkill,  however  (eight  miles  above),  he 
was  induced  to  pass  the  night  there  for  the  purpose  of  some  conference,  and  set  off  early  in  the  morn- 
ing on  horseback,  sending  on  a  messenger  to  Mrs.  Arnold  that  himself  and  suite  would  be  with  her 
to  breakfast.  Arriving  opposite  West  Point,  near  a  small  redoubt  called  Fort  Constitution,  Washing- 
ton turned  his  horse  from  the  road.  Lafayette,  who  was  then  in  his  suite,  called  out,  "  General,  you 
are  going  in  the  wrong  direction  ;  you  know  Mrs.  Arnold  is  waiting  breakfast  for  us."  "  Ah," 
answered  Washington,  "  I  know  you  young  men  are  all  in  love  with  Mrs.  Arnold,  and  wish  to  get 
where  she  is  as  soon  as  possible.  Go  and  take  your  breakfast  with  her,  and  tell  her  not  to  wait  for 
me  :  I  must  ride  down  and  examine  the  redoubts  on  this  side  the  river."  Two  of  the  aides  rode  on, 
found  breakfast  waiting,  and  sat  down  at  once  with  General  Arnold  and  his  family.  While  they 
were  at  table,  a  messenger  came  in  with  a  letter  for  Arnold,  which  announced  the  capture  of  Ancliv, 
and  the  failure  and  betrayal,  of  course,  of  the  whole  conspiracy.  Showing  little  or  no  emotion,  though 
his  life  hung  upon  a  thread,  he  merely  said  to  one  of  his  aides  that  his  presence  was  required  at 
West  Point ;  and,  leaving  word  for  General  Washington  that  he  was  called  over  the  river,  but  would 
return  immediately,  he  ordered  a  horse  and  sent  for  Mrs.  Arnold  to  her  chamber.  He  then  informed 
her  abruptly  that  they  must  part,  possibly  forever,  and  that  his  life  depended  on  his  reaching  the 
enemy's  lines  without  delay.  Struck  with  horror  at  this  intelligence,  she  swooned  and  fell  senseless. 
In  that  state  he  left  her,  hurried  clown  stairs,  mounted  a  horse  belonging  to  one  of  his  aides  that 
stood  saddled  at  the  door,  and  rode  with  all  speed  to  the  bank  of  the  river.  A  boat  with  six  men 
was  in  waiting  ;  and,  pretending  that  he  was  going  with  a  flag  of  truce,  he  pulled  down  the  stream, 
and  arrived  safe  on  board  the  Vulture  sloop-of-war,  lying  some  miles  below.  Andre  was 

carried  to  headquarters,  and,  after  a  military  trial,  was  executed,  notwithstanding  the  strenuous 
efforts  of  the  British  authorities  to  save  him.  Arnold  served  for  a  while  in  the  enemy's  army.  At 
the  close  of  the  war  he  went  to  Europe,  where  he  died  in  obscurity,  shunned  by  those  to  whom  he 
had  so  basely  sold  his  honor. 

The  national  military  academy  was  established  by  Act  of  Congress  in  1802.  It  is  supported  by 
the  Government,  and  the  cadets  are  under  no  expense  for  tuition  or  maintenance  ;  but  they  are 
required  to  serve  in  the  regular  army  for  a  term  of  years  after  graduation.  The  appointments  are 
made  by  Congressmen,  and  the  candidates  for  admission  must  be  between  the  ages  of  sixteen  and 
twenty-one.  The  course  of  study,  which  is  full  and  thorough  in  all  that  relates  to  a  military  educa- 
tion, requires  five  years  for  completion.  The  academy  buildings  are  erected  on  a  plain  nearly  two 
hundred  feet  above  the  Hudson,  and  cover  an  area  a  mile  in  circuit.  In  addition,  there  is  ample  space 
for  the  practice  of  gunnery,  and  the  necessary  military  evolutions.  The  impression  that  cadets  studied 
at  West  Point  as  a  stepping-stone  to  some  other  profession  seems  to  have  obtained  credence  abroad. 
How  erroneous  was  this  opinion  may  be  seen  from  the  remarks  of  a  distinguished  European  critic 
who  has  recently  enquired  into  the  subject,  and  who  says :  "  The  point  which  above  all  others  must 
strike  an  observer  is  the  extremely  stern  military  spirit  which  pervades  the  whole  discipline  and 
teaching.  The  course  is  not  only  longer  than  at  European  colleges  maintained  for  similar  objects, 
but  is  probably  more  strict  and  exacting  than  that  of  any  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic." 

For  many  years  West  Point  was  considered  a  useless  expense  by  the  people,  and  newly  elected 
Representatives  were  wont  to  make  the  system  of  educating  what  they  called  "  military  snobs,"  the 
subject  of  their  maiden  speeches  in  the  House  ;  but  the  war  with  Mexico,  and  especially  the  war 
of  the  Rebellion,  gave  ample  testimony  of  its  value.  Gens.  Scott,  Grant,  Sherman,  Sheridan,  Mit- 
chell, and  many  other  prominent  Union  generals  graduated  there,  and  the  rebel  leaders  Lee,  Pem- 
berton,  Stonewall  Jackson,  and  Johnson,  also  received  from  the  National  Government  the  military 
knowledge  that  enabled  them  to  conduct  their  armies  so  well. 


THE  NATURAL  BRIDGE  IN  VIRGINIA. 

BEFORE  the  division  of  Virginia  during  the  late  war,  Rockbridge  county  was  one  of  the  cen- 
tral counties  of  the  State.     It  received  its  name  from  the  famous  bridge  that  lies  within  its 
confines,  with  the  exception  of  which  remarkable  natural  curiosity,  it  contains  no  attractions  for  a 
tourist  other  than  well-cultivated  fields  and  a  prosperous  farming  population. 


THE    NATURAL     BRIDGE,     VIRGINIA. 


16  THE  NATURAL   BRIDGE  IN   VIRGINIA. 

From  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  century  the  Natural  Bridge  has  divided,  with  Niagara  Falls, 
the  wonder  and  admiration  of  travelers  from  Europe  who  have  come  to  view  the  sublime  creations  of 
Nature  in  the  Western  World.  It  spans  Cedar  Creek,  a  small  stream  nearly  dry  in  summer  which 
flows  into  the  James  River,  and  it  is  apparently  a  solid  rock  in  the  form  of  an  arch.  The  distance  from 
the  water  to  the  nether  side  of  the  arch  is  about  two  hundred  feet,  and  from  that  point  to  the  upper 
side,  forty  feet ;  thus  making  the  height  of  the  bridge  two  hundred  and  forty  feet.  The  chasm 
crossed  by  it  is  ninety  feet  wide. 

The  physical  causes  that  combined  to  form  this  stupendous  structure  have  been  the  subject  of 
much  discussion  among  scientific  men.  The  Marquis  de  Chastellux,  a  French  gentleman  of  distin- 
guished attainments,  who  visited  the  Bridge  in  1781,  thus  describes  it : 

"  It  is  at  the  foot  of  these  rocks,  on  the  edge  of  a  little  stream  which  flows  under  this  immense 
arch,  that  we  must  judge  of  its  astonishing  structure.  There  we  discover  its  immense  spurs,  its 
back-bendings,  and  those  profiles  which  architecture  might  have  given  it.  The  arch  is  not  complete ; 
the  eastern  part  of  it  not  being  so  large  as  the  western,  because  the  mountain  is  more  elevated  on 
this  than  on  the  opposite  side.  It  is  very  extraordinary  that  at  the  bottom  of  the  stream  there  ap- 
pear no  considerable  ruins,  no  trace  of  any  violent  laceration  which  could  have  destroyed  the  kernel 
of  the  rock  and  have  left  the  upper  part  alone  subsisting  ;  for  that  is  the  only  hypothesis  that  can 
account  for  such  a  prodigy.  We  can  have  no  possible  recourse  either  to  a  volcano  or  a  deluge,  no 
trace  of  a  sudden  conflagration  or  of  a  slow  and  tedious  undermining  by  the  water." 

From  the  description  of  the  Baron  de  Turpin,  a  distinguished  French  engineer,  who  made  the 
Bridge  an  object  of  special  study,  and  who  has  written  much  on  the  subject,  we  subjoin  the  following  : 

"  The  mass  of  rock  and  stone  which  loads  this  arch,"  says  the  baron,  "  is  forty-nine  feet  solid  on 
the  key  of  the  great  centre,  and  thirty-seven  on  that  of  the  small  one ;  and,  as  we  find  about  the 
same  difference  in  taking  the  level  of  the  hill,  it  may  be  supposed  that  the  roof  is  on  a  level  the 
whole  length  of  the  key.  It  is  proper  to  observe  that  the  live  rock  continues  also  the  whole  thickness 
of  the  arch,  and  that  on  the  opposite  side  it  is  only  twenty-five  feet  wide  in  its  greatest  breadth,  and 
becomes  gradually  narrower.  The  whole  arch  seems  to  be  formed  of  one  and  the  same  stone  ;  for 
the  joints  which  one  remarks  are  the  effect  of  lightning,  which  struck  this  part  in  1779.  The  other 
head  has  not  the  smallest  vein,  and  the  intrados  is  so  smooth  that  the  martins,  which  fly  around  it  in 
great  numbers,  cannot  fasten  on  it.  The  abutments,  which  have  a  gentle  slope,  are  entire,  and, 
without  being  absolute  planes,  have  all  the  polish  which  a  current  of  water  would  give  to  unhewn 
stone  in  a  certain  time.  The  four  rocks  adjacent  to  the  abutments  seem  to  be  perfectly  homogene- 
ous, and  to  have  a  very  trifling  slope.  The  two  rocks  on  the  right  bank  of  the  rivulet  are  two  hun- 
dred feet  high  above  the  surface  of  the  water,  the  intrados  of  the  arch  a  hundred  and  fifty,  and  the 
two  rocks  on  the  left  bank  a  hundred  and  eighty 

"  We  see  that  these  rocks,  being  of  a  calcareous  nature,  exclude  every  idea  of  a  volcano,  which, 
besides,  cannot  be  reconciled  witlrthe  form  of  the  bridge  and  its  adjacent  parts.  If  it  be  supposed 
that  this  astonishing  arch  is  the  effect  of  a  current  of  water,  we  must  suppose,  likewise,  that  this 
current  has  had  the  force  to  break  down  and  carry  to  a  great  distance  a  mass  of  five  thousand  cubic 
fathoms,  for  there  remains  not  the  slightest  trace  of  such  an  operation." 

The  Baron  de  Turpin's  scientific  attainments  were  of  so  high  an  order  that  his  opinions  are 
always  entitled  to  attention  and  respect ;  but  it  will  be  observed  that  he  agrees  neither  with  the 
elaborate  scientific  opinions  that  have  been  advanced  in  favor  of  the  theory  that  it  is  the  effect  of 
some  natural  convulsion,  nor  with  the  popular  conclusion  that  it  was  caused  by  the  action  of  water 
through  long  ages,  wearing  away  the  limestone  of  which  it  is  formed.  Yet  the  Baron  had  himself 
no  better  theory  to  advance.  The  Bridge  has  also  been  visited  by  other  European  savans,  but  none 
of  them  have  been  more  successful  in  their  attempts  at  the  elucidation  of  this  natural  wonder. 

The  bridge  first  became  generally  known  in  consequence  of  the  enthusiastic  admiration  expressed 
by  President  Jefferson,  who  proclaimed  its  beauties  in  extravagant  terms,  and  attracted  much  atten- 
tion to  it.  It  had  been  previously  visited,  however,  by  several  noted  Frenchmen,  who  had  written 
eloquent  descriptions  of  its  magnitude  and  grandeur. 

Like  most  places  of  similar  interest,  the  Natural  Bridge  has  its  traditions.  Far  up  on  its  rugged 
face  are  cut  the  initials  of  General  Washington,  and  above  his  are  those  of  an  adventurous  youth 
who  nearly  lost  his  life  through  his  foolhardy  determination  to  place  his  name  above  all  that  had 
been  cut  there  before.  By  far  the  finest  view  of  the  bridge  is  that  from  its  base.  Standing  there 
and  looking  up  at  its  rough  uneven  sides,  one  has  an  opportunity  to  estimate  its  real  magnitude. 


TRENTON  HIGH  FALLS,  NEW  YORK.  17 

Cedar  Creek  flows  along  so  quietly  that  even  the  suspicion  that  it  was  once  a  roaring  torrent,  with 
force  sufficient  to  cut  through  the  vast  rock  that  now  hangs  over  it,  seems  ridiculous.  The  distance 
makes  the  overhanging  trees  at  the  top  look  like  diminutive  bushes,  while  the  shrubs  that  grow  from 
the  ledges  and  clefts  are  scarcely  apparent,  except  in  places  where  they  grow  thickly,  and  then  they 
have  the  appearance  of  grass  or  moss  on  the  face  of  the  rock.  The  view  from  the  top  to  the  creek 
below  is  almost  painful,  and  few  can  gaze  down  without  becoming  dizzy. 

There  is  a  tradition  of  an  English  officer  who,  in  1762,  attempted  to  scale  the  Bridge.  He  had 
visited  the  place  with  a  party  of  friends,  and  notwithstanding  their  repeated  expostulations  and 
warnings  he  persisted  in  the  venture.  He  divested  himself  of  his  coat  and  hat,  and  then,  gayly 
bidding  his  comrades  meet  him  on  the  top  of  the  bridge,  he  began  the  ascent.  By  the  aid  of  the 
bushes  and  the  clefts  in  the  rocks  he  succeeded  in  climbing  to  a  ledge  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
from  the  base.  Here  his  courage  failed  him,  for  the  rock  above  was  fatally  regular  for  nearly  fifteen 
feet,  and  there  were  no  bushes  whose  roots  were  imbedded  in  the  stone  with  sufficient  strength  to 
support  his  weight.  Terrified  at  his  danger  he  began  to  descend  ;  but  he  had  proceeded  only  a  few 
feet  when  he  lost  his  hold  through  dizziness,  and  was  dashed  to  the  bottom,  in  full  view  of  his  horror- 
stricken  friends. 

Our  illustration  of  the  Bridge  was  taken  in  the  spring  of  the  year  when  the  melting  of  the  snow 
and  the  unusual  rain-fall  had  given  Cedar  Creek  a  volume  of  water  it  does  not  at  other  times  possess. 
As  before  stated,  during  the  summer,  or  after  a  continuance  of  dry  weather,  the  Creek  is  nearly  dry. 


TRENTON   HIGH   FALLS,  NEW  YORK. 

THERE  is  no  State  in  the  Union  that  presents  a  greater  variety  of  attractive  scenery  than  New 
York.  The  Hudson,  the  Highlands,  the  Catskills  and  the  Adirondacks  are  in  the  east  and 
north-east ;  Onondaga,  Cayuga,  Oneida,  Mahopac,  Chatauqua,  Seneca,  Owasco,  and  numerous  smaller 
lakes  extend  through  the  central  and  northern  sections  ;  Erie  and  Ontario  lie  on  the  Canada  boundary, 
and  that  famous  natural  curiosity,  Niagara  Falls,  is  in  the  north-west.  It  is,  perhaps,  owing  to  this 
abundance  of  noteworthy  scenery  that  the  Trenton  High  Falls  in  Oneida  county  are  so  little  known 
and  so  much  neglected,  although  there  are  two  large  and  growing  cities  in  the  same  county,  Rome 
and  Utica,  and  a  great  railroad  passes  within  a  few  miles  of  the  place.  These  Falls  are  second  in 
interest  only  to  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  They  were  known  to  the  Indians  by  the  name  of  Cayoharie, 
and  are  formed  by  the  descent  of  a  considerable  stream  called  West  Canada  Creek,  through  a 
ravine  of  singular  formation.  Like  all  mountain  streams,  the  creek  is  often  swollen  to  a  swift  and 
muddy  torrent  by  high  rains  and  spring  snows,  and  runs  during  the  early  months  of  the  year  over  a 
succession  of  rocky  ledges,  falling  from  one  to  another  to  the  depth  of  forty  or  fifty  feet,  the  whole 
forming  a  continuous  chain  of  picturesque  cascades.  The  appearance  of  the  creek  has  changed 
somewhat  since  its  first  discovery.  The  constant  action  of  the  water  has  worn  through  the  strata 
that  enclose  it,  and  has  materially  widened  the  bed  of  the  stream.  Of  course,  the  best  time  to  see 
the /alls  is  in  the  spring  of  the  year,  but  unfortunately  at  that  period  they  are  least  accessible.  The 
city  of  Rome  is,  however,  only  fourteen  miles  distant,  and  the  tourist  can  choose  a  fine  day  to  make 
his  visit  and  be  back  in  town  in  the  evening.  The  great  difficulty  lies  in  traversing  the  roads.  The 
melted  snow  runs  down  from  the  hills  in  numberless  rivulets,  and  the  mixture  of  mud  and  slush 
underfoot  interferes  with  the  pleasure  of  exploring  even  the  most  romantic  scenery.  Those  who 
desire  to  thoroughly  enjoy  the  beauties  of  this  picturesque  spot  should  make  their  head-quarters 
at  the  hotel — a  very  good"  one — to  be  found  near  the  Falls. 

Cascades  of  marvelous  beauty  are  not  a  rarity  in  American  scenery  ;  but  it  is  believed  that 
Trenton  Gorge  has  not  its  counterpart  on  the  continent,  at  least  it  has  no  rival  in  sublimity  on  this 
side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  It  is  not  a  mere  waterfall  or  series  of  waterfalls.  It  is  a  gigantic 
millrace  running  for  three  miles  between  walls  of  solid  rock,  Nature's  masonry,  twice  as  high  as 
Trinity  steeple,  and  in  many  places  almost  as  perpendicular.  Through  this  gorge  run  the  waters  of 
West  Canada  Creek  :  now  corkscrewing  their  way  through  a  rocky  path,  water  hewn  ;  now  precipi- 
tating themselves  by  a  series  of  cascades  into  an  amphitheatre  whose  rugged  sides  of  rock  are 
clothed  in  leafy  green  ;  now  flowing  in  a  rapid  stream  over  a  bed  as  smooth,  and  composed  of  stones 


1 8  TRENTON  HIGH  FALLS,  NEW  YORK. 

as  regular  and  rectangular  as  those  of  a  city  sidewalk  ;  now  pouring  over  a  rocky  dam  so  straight 
and  formal  that  you  instinctively  look  for  a  sawmill  at  its  base ;  now  leaping  down  a  two-storied  cas- 
cade in  a  series  of  falls  whose  wondrous  variety  of  beauty  is  beyond  the  power  of  pen  or  pencil  to 
describe ;  now  darting  over  a  bed  of  rough  rocks  which  throw  it  into  foam  and  eddies  and  waves 
that  are  like  a  miniature  surf;  now  gathering  all  its  volume  into  one  concentrated  column  and 
Munging  through  a  narrow  gap,  beating  like  a  gigantic  trip-hammer  on  the  rocky  bed  beneath  ; 
Anally  to  hurry  swirled  and  twisted  and  writhed  into  innumerable  forms  through  a  narrow  defile,  to 
'.ssue  at  last  in  a  deep  and  to  the  eye  an  unfathomable  pool  of  treacherous  calm  at  the  very  edge 
and  mouth  of  the  stony  chasm.  The  gorge  is  to-day  almost  exactly  what  it  was  when  the  Indians 
hunted  in  these  forests  and  fished  in  these  pools.  There  is  here  and  there  a  chain  fastened  into  the 
rocks  to  help  those  of  unsteady  head  or  careless  feet  along  the  narrowest  pathways  in  the  rock. 
Once  we  mount  a  wooden  staircase  to  get  around  the  High  Falls.  For  the  rest  we  might  easily 
imagine  ourselves  in  a  desolate  wild.  Civilization  has  done  its  utmost  to  ruin  Niagara.  It  has  only 
rendered  Trenton  Gorge  accessible. 

Sherman  Falls,  one  of  the  cascades  forming  Trenton  Falls,  furnishes  an  interesting  instance  of 
the  action  of  water  upon  solid  rock.  Far  back  in  distant  ages,  before  even  the  Indians  had  dis- 
covered it,  the  water,  hindered  in  its  course  by  some  obstacle,  made  here  a  detour  and  leaped  across 
the  chasm  at  right  angles  to  its  present  course.  It  cut  a  large  amphitheatre  in  the  solid  rock  upon 
this  side,  along  which  the  narrow  pathway  now  runs,  and  leaping  down  struck  the  opposite  bank 
with  such  prodigious  force  as  to  cut  a  great  chasm  in  the  rocks  thirty-eight  feet  in  depth,  which 
remains  to  attest  its  power  in  times  past.  It  has  since  cut  a  clearage  in  the  edge  of  the  precipice 
which  before  turned  it  from  its  straightforward  course,  and  pours  through  this  chasm  in  one  huge 
pillar  of  amber  water  like  a  gigantic  waterspout  inverted.  The  thunder  is  heaviest  here  ;  the  walls 
rise  highest ;  the  blow  upon  blow  of  the  great  water  column  are  most  ponderous  ;  and  here,  right 
athwart  the  spray  that  rises  in  perpetual  incense  filling  the  amphitheatre,  trembles  and  dances  a 
rainbow,  now  in  peffect  span,  now  in  evanescent  fragments,  the  most  fragile  and  the  most  exquisite 
thing  in  nature.  How  marvelously  this  rainbow,  by  its  very  contrast,  intensifies  the  impression  pro- 
duced by  the  thunder  of  the  irresistible  waters,  and  the  massive  strength  of  the  impenetrable  rocks, 
can  hardly  be  described.  Like  all  great  artists,  learners  in  her  school,  Nature  delights  in  just  such 
strong  contrasts. 

At  the  point  in  the  Falls  where  the  greatest  volume  of  water  descends,  the  rocky  walls  on  either 
side  are  much  nearer  each  other  than  at  other  places,  giving  the  fall  at  a  distance  the  appearance  of 
water  rushing  through  a  great  flood-gate.  The  waters  rush  along  with  an  impetuous  and  unnecessary 
haste  that  is  thoroughly  American — every  drop  is  unmistakably  native-born.  The  walls  are  almost 
perpendicular  below  the  Falls,  and  in  many  places  the  sky  is  scarcely  visible  from  the  banks  of  the 
creek.  There  is  a  ladder  built  from  the  base  of  the  great  cataract  to  the  plateau  above  it,  and 
tourists  can  climb  up  and  view  the  falls  at  the  spot  where  the  first  descent  begins.  The  spectacle 
here  witnessed  is  more  than  compensation  for  the  exertion.  Near  the  shore  the  water  forms  in 
whirls  and  eddies,  perpetually  changing  its  hues  in  the  strong  sunlight,  while  further  out  the  torrent 
rushes  over  its  inclining  bed  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  taking  with  it  every  now  and  then  a  huge 
tree  that  has  been  torn  from  its  roots  far  up  in  the  mountains  and  carrying  it  like  an  arrow  over  the  fall. 
The  colors  on  the  trees,  the  rising  mist,  the  foam  here,  the  amber  there  of  the  water,  tints  of  rain- 
bows that  come  and  go  upon  the  spray,  and  the  song  of  the  wild  waters — complete  a  landscape  that, 
for  romance,  has  few  equals. 

The  other  places  of  interest  are  the  Alhambra  Fall,  the  head  of  the  ravine  through  which  the 
Kanata  flows,  Boru's  Bridge  Fall,  and  the  singular  formations  in  the  rocky  banks  known  as  Rocky 
Heart  and  Jacob's  Well.  The  descriptions  given  by  visitors  to  this  spot,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  on 
the  direct  route  from  Buffalo  and  Niagara,  are  helping  to  make  it  better  known  and  more  popular. 

Oneida  county,  in  which  the  Falls  are  situated,  is  a  prosperous  and  well-to-do  section  of  the  State. 
One  of  its  chief  industries  is  the  cultivation  of  hops,  and  its  fine  grazing  facilities  give  encouragement 
to  the  raising  of  cattle  and  horses.  The  Oneida  Community  owns  a  large  section  of  land  in  the 
county,  and  visitors  to  the  Falls  may  thus  have  an  opportunity  also  of  observing  the  ways  of  this 
peculiar  social  organization. 


PANORAMA    OF    TRENTON     FALLS. 


zo  SQUAM  LAKE.—  THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 

SQUAM    LAKE. 

DANIEL  Webster  said  long  ago  that  New  Hampshire  was  a  good  State  to  emigrate  from,  but 
this  does  not  change  the  fact  that  it  is  a  very  popular  place  to  summer  in,  its  mountains  and 
lakes  having  thousands  of  visitors  every  year.  Squam  Lake  is  in  a  north-westerly  direction  from 
Lake  Winnipiseogee,  between  Carroll  and  Grafton  counties,  and  has  an  area  of  about  thirty  square 
miles.  Its  shores  are  very  picturesque,  and,  in  many  places,  rocky  and  mountainous.  Our  illustra- 
tion will,  perhaps,  call  to  some  of  our  readers,  the  memory  of  happy  moments  spent  among  the 
Hampshire  hills,  far  away  from  the  bustle  of  city  life. 

A  lake  whose  surroundings  are  wild  and  uncultivated  is  best  seen  in  the  autumn,  and  we  quote 
from  the  work  of  an  enthusiastic  traveler  a  description  of  Squam  Lake  at  that  season  of  the  year: 

"  The  first  severe  frost  had  come,  and  the  miraculous  change  had  passed  upon  the  leaves  which 
is  known  only  in  America.  The  blood-red  sugar  maple,  with  a  leaf  brighter  and  more  delicate  than 
a  Circassian  lip,  stood  here  and  there  in  the  forest  like  the  sultan's  standard  in  a  host — the  solitary 
and  far-seen  aristocrat  of  the  wilderness  ;  the  birch,  with  its  spirit-like  and  amber  leaves,  ghosts  of 
the  departed  summer,  turned  out  along  the  edges  of  the  wood  like  a  lining  of  the  palest  gold  ;  the 
broad  sycamore  and  the  fan-like  catalpa  flaunted  their  saffron  foliage  in  the  sun,  spotted  with  gold 
like  the  wings  of  a  lady-bird  ;  the  kingly  oak,  with  its  summit  shaken  bare,  still  hid  its  majestic 
trunk  in  a  drapery  of  sumptuous  leaves,  like  a  stricken  monarch,  gathering  his  robe  of  state  about 
him  to  die  royally  in  his  purple ;  the  tall  poplar,  with  its  minaret  of  silver  leaves,  stood  blanched 
like  a  coward  in  the  dying  forest,  burdening  every  breeze  with  its  complainings  ;  the  hickory  paled 
through  its  enduring  green  ;  the  bright  berries  of  the  mountain  ash,  flushed  with  a  more  sanguine 
glory  in  the  unobstructed  sun  ;  the  gaudy  tulip-tree,  the  sybarite  of  vegetation,  stripped  of  its 
golden  cups,  still  drank  the  intoxicating  light  of  noonday  in  leaves  than  which  the  lip  of  an  Indian 
shell  was  never  more  delicately  tinted  ;  the  still  deeper  dyed  vines  of  the  lavish  wilderness,  perish- 
ing with  the  noble  things  whose  summer  they  had  shared." 

This  is  only  the  forest — the  background  of  the  picture.  In  the  foreground  lies  the  lake,  its 
waves  glittering  like  sunlit  steel,  or  changing  into  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow  under  the  glow  of  the 
evening  sun.  Here  and  there  are  islands,  varying  much  in  size,  some  being  no  larger  than  a  tea- 
table,  while  in  appearance  they  are  equally  dissimilar,  although  all  are  covered  by  the  most 
luxuriant  vegetation. 

To  summer  visitors  Squam  Lake  has  no  ordinary  attractions.  The  White  Mountains  are  not  far 
away,  and  Lake  Winnipiseogee,  called  by  the  Indians  "  The  Smile  of  God,"  is  also  a  pleasant  point 
for  a  day's  jaunt.  Boating,  of  course,  is  one  of  the  first  amusements.  A  morning  sail  on  the  beauti- 
ful lake  is  full  of  enjoyment.  The  distant  mountains,  with  the  ever-changeful  forms  of  mist  around 
their  summits,  the  trees  leaning  over  the  banks  of  the  lake,  here  and  there  a  diminutive  harbor,  in 
which  the  water  is  so  clear  and  transparent  that  the  bottom,  covered  with  white  and  yellow  pebbles, 
can  be  seen — all  these  combine  to  form  a  varied  panorama.  A  storm  on  the  lake  is,  however,  a 
matter  of  more  importance  than  would  be  supposed  from  its  size.  The  wind  blows  a  perfect  hurri- 
cane, and  the  fog  and  clouds  are  so  dark,  that  it  is  difficult  to  see  a  clear  course  ahead.  Its 
proximity  to  the  sea  gives  it  the  full  force  of  the  winds  from  the  ocean.  These  are  drawbacks, 
experienced  fortunately  only  in  unfavorable  weather. 


THE   WHITE    MOUNTAINS. 

/"T~*HE  White  Mountain  range  consists  of  eleven  peaks,  viz.  :  Mounts  Washington,  Clay,  Jefferson, 
-L  Adams,  Madison,  Webster,  Jackson,  Clinton,  Pleasant,  Franklin,  and  Monroe.  Of  these 
Mount  Washington  is  the  highest,  having  an  elevation  of  6,293  feet-  The  Indian  name  for  these 
mountains  was  "  Agiocochook  "  which  signifies  "  the  place  of  the  Spirit  of  the  Great  Forest,"  or, 
according  to  Judge  Potter,  "  the  place  of  the  Storm  Spirit."  They  derive  their  English  name  from 
the  fact  that  for  ten  months  of  the  year  their  peaks  are  white  with  snow.  Owing  to  the  large  num- 
ber of  tourists  who  visit  the  White  Mountains  every  summer,  it  has  become  profitable  to  cut  new 
roads,  and  level  and  grade  old  ones,  so  that  now  the  ascent  of  the  mountains  is  attended  only  with 


w 

K 


in 

d 


H 

Z 


2 
•< 
D 

a 

(0 


22  THE  WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 

fatigue  and,  if  perchance  a  shower  should  come  on,  a  little  discomfort.  The  principal  point  of  inter- 
est to  the  visitor  lies  in  the  ascent  of  Mount  Washington.  There  are  several  routes  to  the  summit, 
but  the  .most  popular  one  is  from  the  Glen. 

A  drive  of  eight  miles  from  the  village  of  Gorham  along  the  Peabody  River  will  take  the  visitor 
to  the  Glen  House,  which  stands  on  a  plateau  about  830  feet  above  the  Gorham  valley.  The  Glen 
House  is  on  the  lowest  ridge  of  the  hill  that  rises  opposite  to  Mount  Washington,  which,  as  its  name 
indicates,  stands  head  and  shoulders  above  the  other  summits — having  no  peer.  Madison  and 
Monroe  come  next  on  the  left,  and  then  Jefferson,  who  appears  higher  than  he  is.  In  a  line  with 
Mount  Washington  on  the  other  side  are  Adams,  Clay,  &c.  Jefferson's  head  seems  modeled  after  a 
European  pattern.  It  runs  up  to  a  sharp  point,  and  wants  but  accumulated  masses  of  ice  to  be 
broken  into  Alpine  angles. 

The  distance  from  the  base  of  the  mountain  at  the  Glen  to  its  summit  is  eight  miles,  and  a  car- 
riage road  runs  to  the  very  top  of  the  mountain.  This  road  was  commenced  in  1855  by  a  chartered 
corporation  under  the  management  of  D.  O.  Macomber,  and  was  finished  as  far  as  the  Ledge,  about 
four  miles  from  its  base,  in  1856.  The  road  was  not  completed  until  the  summer  of  1861.  Its 
average  grade  is  twelve  feet  in  one  hundred,  and  its  steepest  grade  is  sixteen  and  a  half  feet  in  a 
hundred.  The  bridle  path  ascends  the  mountain  in  a  direct  line,  while  the  carriage  road  winds 
around  the  Ledge  and  up  the  side,  making  the  distance  nearly  double.  Between  the  base  and  the 
Ledge  the  road  is  cut  mainly  through  the  forest,  and  affords  no  views  of  mountain  scenery,  but  after 
this  portion  of  the  journey  has  been  passed  it  runs  along  the  very  edge  of  a  deep  ravine  that  divides 
Mount  Washington  from  Mounts  Clay  and  Jefferson,  and  the  traveler  for  the  rest  of  the  way  may 
enjoy  the  imposing  scenery  at  its  best. 

The  path  rises  over  a  series  of  receding  plateaus,  each  of  which  seems  to  be  the  summit  as  one 
looks  up  from  below,  and  it  is  on  account  of  this  feature  that  Mount  Washington  fails  to  show  its 
real  height  until  one  is  far  enough  away  to  obtain  a  full  view  of  its  whole  outline. 

From  Eastman's  work  on  the  White  Mountains  we  take  an  account  of  the  tragic  termination  of 
three  attempts  to  reach  the  summit  before  the  present  roads  were  built :  "  During  the  last  part  of 
the  ascent  one  will  see  the  pile  of  stones  that  marks  the  spot  where  Miss  Bourne,  of  Kennebunk, 
Me.,  died  near  midnight,  in  September  1855,  and  where  her  uncle  and  cousin  kept  sad  watch  until 
dawn.  They  started  in  the  afternoon,  without  a  guide,  to  walk  to  the  summit.  Night  and  fog  over- 
took tnem,  and  the  young  lady  perished  in  the  chill  and  darkness  among  the  rocks,  but  a  few  rods 
from  the  house  they  were  in  search  of.  Quite  near,  also,  is  the  shelving  rock,  beneath  which  the 
remains  of  an  elderly  gentleman  from  Wilmington,  Del.,  were  found  in  July,  1857.  He  had  attempted 
to  ascend  the  mountain  alone,  one  afternoon  in  August  of  the  year  before,  and  must  have  been  over- 
taken by  storm,  cold  and  darkness,  when  near  the  summit.  His  watch  and  some  bank-bills  in  his 
vest  pocket  were  found  uninjured ;  though  most  of  the  body,  and  even  part  of  the  skeleton,  were 
gone.  A  little  further  below,  and  at  the  left  of  the  descending  path,  the  ledge  is  visible  where  Dr. 
Benjamin  Ball,  of  Boston,  passed  two  nights  in  the  snow  and  sleet  of  an  October  storm,  alone  and 
without  food  or  covering.  He  was  rescued  when  nature  was  about  sinking.  His  feet  were  frozen 
and  he  could  not  speak.  How  his  life  was  preserved  in  such  exposure  is  a  marvel.  It  is  equally 
remarkable  that,  though  his  feet  were  severely  frozen,  they  were  saved." 

Arriving  at  the  top  of  the  mountain  the  mind  recoils  within  itself  through  the  impotence  of  its 
efforts  to  grasp  the  infinite  and  illimitable  ideas  suggested  by  the  vastness  of  the  scene.  The  sum- 
mit of  Mount  Washington  is  six  thousand  two  hundred  and  ninety-three  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
sea,  being  the  highest  point  in  the  United  States  east  of  the  Mississippi,  except  some  peaks  among 
the  Black  Mountains  in  North  Carolina,  which  overtop  it  by  six  or  seven  hundred  feet.  The 
summit  is  entirely  bare  of  vegetation,  a  vast  stone  heap,  rugged  and  wild,  but  too  regularly  shaped 
for  picturesqueness  or  sublimity.  There  has  recently  been  erected  here  a  railroad  depot.  The 
view  from  the  apex  commands  the  full  circle  of  the  horizon,  and  Mount  Washington  appears  as  an 
island  surrounded  by  a  tumultuous  ocean  of  blue  hills.  But  the  adjacent  peaks,  jagged  and  bare, 
divided  by  valleys  of  stupendous  depth,  are  yet  the  most  impressive  features  of  the  grand  pano- 
rama. 

A  horizon  of  nearly  six  hundred  miles  bounds  the  prospect.  "  In  the  immediate  neighborhood, 
but  far  below,  lie  on  one  side  Mounts  Clinton,  Pleasant,  Monroe,  and  Franklin  ;  on  the  other  Jeffer- 
son, Adams,  and  Madison.  On  the  east  and  west,  openings  are  visible  through  which  rivers,  taking 
their  rise  in  the  mountains,  wind  their  way  along  the  valleys  to  the  lowlands.  Far  in  the  distance, 


SILVER    CASCADE,    CRAWFORD'S    NOTCH. 


THE    WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 


chains  of  hills  and  mountains,  distinct  in  outline  and  beautiful  in  form,  arise  on  all  sides,  and  these 
are  still  overtopped  by  those  beyond  whose  blue  summits  mingle  with  the  sky,  and  bound  the  glori- 
ous picture.  Far  to  the  south,  the  silvery  waters  of  Lake  Winnipiseogee  set,  as  it  were,  in  a  frame- 
work of  hills,  encounter  the  eye  and  relieve  and  contrast  the  sombre  majesty  of  the  mountains.  On 

the  west  the  Green 
Mountains  of  Ver- 
mont,  and  on  the 
east  the  mountains 
of  Maine  skirt  the 
horizon  and  seem 
to  support  the  sky." 
The     summit     of 
Mt.      Washington 
consists    of  about 
an  acre  and  a  half 
of  irregular  rock, 
containing  scarce- 
ly a  smooth  spot. 
There    were     for- 
merly  two    hotels 
there  —  the    Tip- 
Top    House     and 
the  Summit  House 
— but    they    have 
been  consolidated. 
Those  who  desire 
to   see  all  the  di- 
versity of  scenery 
which    the    White 
Mountains     afford 
would    do  well    to 
make,  .  from     this 
point,    for     Craw- 
ford's   Notch ;     in 
that    respect     fol- 
lowing  the   exam- 
ple of  the  writer, 
who,      descending 
from  the  knob  of 
Mount     Washing- 
ton,came  presently 
upon  a  dark  pond 
fed  by  the  melting 
snows    and    over- 
shadowed by  bald 
and  jagged  crests 
of   the    mountain, 
presenting       alto- 
gether one  of  the 
most  striking  pic- 
tures ever  seen.    No  flower  blooming  on  its  bleak  margin,  no  living  thing  rippling  its  icy  bosom,  it  re- 
sembled a  sullen,  deep-set  black  eye  staring  eternally  upward  from  its  sunless  hollow  at  the   unap- 
proachable glories  of  the  heaven  above.      The  path  for  several  miles  led  around  and  over  this  line  of 
savage  crests,  in  many  places  steep  and  dangerous.     In  time  one  reaches  the  line  of  forest  growth — 
at  first  appearing  a  mere  thicket  of  stunted  firs,  and  increasing  in  size  with  the  descent.    The  charac- 
ter of  the  road  also  changed.     The  rugged  pavements  and  steep  stairways  of  loose  and  angular  rocks. 


THE   WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 


Mount  Washington  Railway. 


had  given  place  to  deep-washed  gullies. 
The   Notch    is    a    narrow    and    romantic 
gorge,  walled  in  by  precipitous  rocks  and 
mountains  of  imposing  height.      Its   en- 
trance resembles  a  gateway  of  Cyclopean 
masonry,   affording  scanty  room   for  the 
rugged  highway,  and  the  passage  of  a  brawling  stream, 
one   of  the  sources  of  the  Saco  River.      The  ride 
through  this  wild  rift,  halting  and  turning  often  to  admire  its  savage 
ruggedness,  forms  one  of  the  most  agreeable   reminiscences  of 
our  mountain  trip.     At  the  end  of  two  miles  the  pass  widens 
into  a  regular  valley,  and  the  scenery  becomes  more  common- 
place. 

Silver  Cascade,  sometimes  called  the  Second  Flume,  from 
the  deep  and  narrow  gorge  through  which  the  waters  flow,  is  about 
three  miles  from  the  Glen.  It  is  a  water-chiseled  chasm  through 
which  a  bright  stream  toils  with  hoarse  murmurings  ;  while  from 
far  above  on  the  mountain,  where  rocks  and  fir-trees  crown  the 

misty  heights,  the  Silver  Cascade  comes  skipping  down  like  a  white-robed  undine,  hasting  to 
plunge  herself  in  the  gulf  below.  Part  of  its  waters  come  from  Mount  Washington  through 
Tuckerman's  Ravine,  and  the  descent  is  about  eighty  feet.  It  flows  down  a  series  of  rough,  rocky 
steps  which  widen  toward  the  bottom. 

The  Glen  Ellis  Fall  is  near  the  road  to  North  Conway  and  the  Notch.  Its  descent  is  sixty  feet. 
Other  points  of  interest  in  the  mountains  are  Tuckerman's  Ravine  ;  Willey  Slide,  named  after  the 
unfortunate  Willey  family,  who  were  buried  in  a  landslide  on  the  night  of  October  25,  1826  ;  the 
"  Profile,"  and  the  Cascades. 

It  is  impossible  to  close  this  short  account  of  Mount  Washington  without  briefly  referring  to  the 
triumph  which  engineering  skill  has  achieved  in  the  construction  of  the  Mount  Washington  Railway. 
During  the  summer  season,  steam-cars  run  daily  over  the  track,  which  passes  up  the  west  side  of 
the  mountain  to  the  summit.  The  construction  of  this  railroad  is  due  to  the  enthusiasm  and  inven- 
tive genius  of  Mr.  Sylvester  Marsh,  of  Littleton,  New  Hampshire.  At  first  it  was  difficult  to  con- 
vince mechanicians  of  the  feasibility  of  the  scheme,  and  little  encouragement  was  afforded  by- 
capitalists  until  an  engine  was  actually  running  over  a  portion  of  the  route.  Finally,  the  necessary 
funds  having  been  subscribed,  the  railroad  was  finished  in  1869.  It  starts  from  a  point  2,668  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  about  3,600  below  the  summit.  The  average  grade  is  1,300  feet,  the  maximum  1,980 
feet,  to  the  mile.  There  are  nine  curves  on  the  line,  varying  from  497  to  945  feet  radius.  The  track 
consists  of  three  rails,  the  outer  four  feet  seven 
and  one-half  inches  apart,  which  sustain  the 
principal  weight  of  the  rolling  stock,  and  an 
inner  cog-rail,  four  inches  wide,  into  which  the 
teeth  of  the  driving-wheel  of  the  engine  play, 
and,  as  it  revolves,  the  whole  engine  is  made  to 
move,  resting  on  the  outer  rail.  Practically,  the 
operation  is  accomplished  by  one  cog-wheel 
working  into  another.  The  atmospheric  brakes 
reduce  the  possibility  of  accident  to  a  minimum 
risk,  and  it  is  currently  believed  that  the  danger 
involved  in  traveling  on  this  railroad  is  not  greater 
than  on  an  ordinary  railroad. 

In  1870-71  an  expedition,  consisting  of  C.  H. 
Hitchcock,  State  Geologist  of  New  Hampshire, 
J.  H.  Huntington,  in  charge  of  the  Observatory 
upon  the  mountain,  S.  A.  Nelson,  Observer,  A. 
F.  Clough,  and  H.  A.  Kimball,  Photographers, 
and  Theodore  Smith,  Observer  and  Telegrapher 
for  the  Signal  Service,  passed  the  winter  on  the  The  Depot  and  Summit  House,  Mount  Washington. 


26  THE   WHITE  MOUNTAINS. 

top  of  the  mountain,  connected  with  the  outside  world  only  by  a  telegraph  wire.     Before  this  date 
only  two  of  the  various  attempts  made  to  reach  the  summit  in  winter  had  proved  successful. 

We  have  not  space  to  dwell  upon  the  various  difficulties  encountered  in  making  the  necessary 
preparations  for  wintering  on  the  summit,  many  of  which  arose  from  the  fact  that  the  expedition  was 
finally  organized  so  late  in  the  season,  that  before  their  arrangements  were  fully  completed  the  trains 
had  ceased  to  run.  But,  these  matters  having  previously  been  attended  to,  an  ascent  was  made  on 
November  30,  1870.  This  ascent  is  so  full  of  dramatic  incident,  that  the  reader  will  pardon  us  for 
reproducing  it : 

"  The  end  of  the  first  mile — carrying  us  up  to  within  one  half  mile  of  the  limit  of  wood-growth 
— found  us  in  tolerable  condition  ;  when  a  halt  for  breath  and  observations  discovered  to  us  an  ap- 
proaching storm  lying  on  the  Green  Mountains  of  Vermont.  It  would  undoubtedly  strike  us,  but 
we  still  hoped  we  might  press  on  and  reach  the  summit  first.  The  thought  of  being  overtaken  by  a 
furious  storm  on  the  wintry,  shelterless  cliffs  of  Mount  Washington,  with  the  night  about  to  enshroud 
us,  was  fearfully  impressive,  and  prompted  us  to  our  best  endeavors.  With  all  the  effort  we  could 
well  muster,  we  had  only  advanced  a  half  mile  more,  carrying  us  fairly  above  the  wooded  region  to 
the  foot  of  '  Jacob's  Ladder,'  when  the  storm  struck  us.  There  were  suddenly  wrapped  around  us 
dense  clouds  of  frozen  vapor,  driven  so  furiously  into  our  faces  by  the  raging  winds  as  to  threaten 
suffocation.  The  cheering  repose  of  the  elements  but  a  moment  before  had  now  given  place  to  what 
might  well  be  felt  as  the  power  and  hoarse  rage  of  a  thousand  furies  ;  and  the  shroud  of  darkness 
that  was  in  a  moment  thrown  over  us  was  nearly  equal  to  that  of  the  moonless  night.  Compelled  to 
redoubled  efforts  to  keep  our  feet  and  make  proper  advance,  we  struggled  with  the  tempest,  though 
with  such  odds  against  us  that  we  were  repeatedly  slipping  and  getting  painful  bruises.  Mr.  Kim- 
ball  finding  himself  too  much  exhausted  to  continue  this  struggle  on  the  track,  we  all  halted  in  brief 
consultation.  It  was  suggested  that  we  return  to  Waumbek  Station,  an  old  building  a  half  mile 
below  us,  and  there  try  to  keep  ourselves  from  freezing  by  brisk  exercise.  Mr.  Clough  emphatically 
vetoed  this  as  a  most  dangerous  and  impracticable  proposition,  saying  that  our  only  hope  consisted  in 
pushing  upward  with  all  our  might. 

"  Here  we  became  separated,  three  of  our  party  left  the  railroad  track,  and  Mr.  Kimball  left 
behind  his  luggage  in  order  to  continue  the  ascent.  By  thus  leaving  the  track  we  escaped  liability 
to  falls  and  bruises,  but  found  ourselves  often  getting  buried  to  our  waists  in  snow,  and  forced  to 
exert  our  utmost  strength  to  drag  ourselves  out  and  advance.  We  repeatedly  called  to  Mr.  Bracy, 
who  had  kept  on  the  track,  as  we  supposed,  but  could  get  no  answer.  The  roar  of  the  tempest  over- 
came our  utmost  vocal  efforts  ;  and  the  cloud  of  frozen  vapor,  that  lashed  us  so  furiously  as  it  hugged 
us  in  its  chilling  embrace,  was  so  dense  that  no  object  could  be  seen  at  a  distance  of  ten  paces. 

"  Against  such  remorseless  blasts  no  human  being  could  keep  integrity  of  muscle  and  remain 
erect.  We  could  only  go  on  together  a  little  way  and  then  throw  ourselves  down  for  a  few  moments, 
to  recover  breath  and  strength.  We  had  many  times  repeated  this,  when  Mr.  Kimball  became  so 
utterly  exhausted  as  to  make  it  impossible  to  take  another  step.  He  called  to  the  others  to  leave 
him  and  save  themselves  if  possible.  The  noble  and  emphatic  '  Never'  uttered  by  the  manly  Clough, 
whose  sturdy  muscle  was  found  ample  to  back  his  will,  aroused  him  to  another  effort. 

"  The  two  stronger  gentlemen,  whose  habits  of  life  and  superior  physical  powers  gave  hope  of 
deliverance  for  themselves,  were  both  immovable  in  the  determination  that  our  fate  should  be  one, 
let  that  be  what  it  must. 

"The  situation  was  one  of  most  momentous  peril,  especially  as  to  Mr.  Kimball,  whose  exhaustion 
was  now  so  extreme  that  he  was  wholly  indifferent  to  the  fate  that  seemed  to  impend  ;  only  begging 
that  he  might  be  left  to  that  sleep  from  whose  embrace  there  was  felt  no  power  of  resistance.  Still 
there  was  forced  a  listless  drag  onward,  mostly  in  the  interests  of  his  companions  and  in  obedience 
to  their  potent  wills.  After  this  sort  we  struggled  on,  a  few  rods  at  a  time,  falling  together,  between 
each  effort,  to  rest  and  gain  new  strength.  At  each  halt  Messrs. Clough  and  Cheney  used  their  best 
endeavors  by  pounding  and  rubbing  Mr.  Kimball's  feet  and  limbs,  and  in  various  other  ways  endeav- 
ored to  promote  circulation  and  prevent  freezing. 

"  The  last  saving  device  was  supplied  by  a  cord  which  we  chanced  to  have.  At  one  end  of  this 
was  made  a  noose,  which  was  placed  in  Mr.  Kimball's  hand,  while  the  other  end  was  passed  over  the 
shoulder  of  Mr.  Clough  who  tugged  along  in  advance,  while  Mr.  Cheney  helped  at  his  side.  Mosf 
of  the  last  mile  was  accomplished  in  this  manner." 

From  the  following  description,  a  storm  on  Mount  Washington  in  winter  is  no  slight  matter  : 


LAKE  GEORGE.  27 

"  Sunday,  February  5.  From  one  to  two  A.  M.  the  wind  was  higher  than  during  the  early  part 
of  the  night.  Some  of  the  gusts  must  have  been  above  too,  possibly  1 10  miles  an  hour.  The  tem- 
pest roared  and  thundered.  It  had  precisely  the  sound  of  the  ocean  waves  breaking  on  a  rocky 
shore.  And  the  building  too  had  the  motion  of  a  ship  scudding  before  a  gale.  At  three  A.  M.,  the 
temperature  had  fallen  to  — 59°,  and  the  barometer  stood  at  22.508,  and  attached  thermometer  62°. 
Barometer  was  lowest  yesterday  at  eight  A.  M.,  when  it  was  22.508,  and  attached  thermometer  32°. 
Now,  seven  A.  M.,  the  thermometer  indicates  — 25°,  and  the  wind  has  fallen  to  70.  *  The 

valleys  are  full  of  stratus  clouds ;  charged  with  frost  as  they  are,  occasionally  sweeping  over  the 
summit,  they  completely  cover  one  in  a  moment,  hair,  beard,  and  clothing  ;  when  the  face  is  exposed 
it  feels  like  the  touch  of  a  hot  iron.  To  breathe  this  frosty  air  is  very  unpleasant.  A  full  inhalation 
induces  a  severe  coughing  fit.  Our  butter-tubs  stand  in  the  outer-room  ;  this  morning  we  cut  a 
piece  of  butter  for  breakfast,  using  a  chisel  and  hammer  ! — it  was  like  cutting  into  a  stone. 

"  Nine  A.  M.  Talked  over  the  events  of  the  past  night  at  the  breakfast  table,  recalling  many 
laughable  incidents,  and  agreeing  that  we  rather  enjoyed  the  night's  experience  than  otherwise,  that 
it  was  a  sublime  affair  (having  full  confidence  that  the  house  would  stand,  the  storm  had  no  terrors 
for  us)  ;  but  all  things  considered,  were  unanimous  in  the  opinion  that  once  a  fortnight  was  quite 
often  enough  for  such  grand  displays  of  the  storm-king's  power.  Of  all  the  nights  since  this  party 
came  here  the  last  exceeds  every  one." 


LAKE    GEORGE. 

THE  number,  beauty,  and  variety  of  the  lakes  and  lakelets  is  one  of  the  most  striking  features 
of  American  scenery  ;  and  the  Empire  State  holds  within  her  boundaries  a  most  Benjamin- 
like  share  of  these  pearls  of  nature.  It  is  needless  for  her  to  boast  of  Cayuga,  Pleasant,  Piseco, 
Schroon,  Paradox,  Champlain,  and  numberless  other  delicious  scenes,  while  with  fair  Horicon  alone 
she  may  challenge  all  the  earth.  This  bright  gem — gem  of  purest  water — is  befittingly  set  in  a  sur- 
rounding of  kindred  beauties,  shedding  its  effulgence  upon  the  most  attractive  portion  of  the  most 
picturesque  State  in  the  Union.  It  is  as  accessible  in  all  directions  as  steamers,  railways,  and  roads 
can  make  it.  And  what  magnificent  modes  of  access  !  The  Canadian,  dropping  down  Lake  Cham- 
plain,  nods  to  the  Adirondacks  on  one  hand,  and  to  the  Green  Mountains  on  the  other,  as  he  hastens 
to  pay  a  morning  call ;  while  the  New  Yorker  glides  swiftly  through  the  enchanted  fastnesses  of  the 
Hudson,  and  peeps  into  the  gay  saloons  of  Saratoga,  as  he  runs  up  for  a  few  days'  pleasure-trip.  And 
what  cordial  and  hospitable  greeting  and  entertainment  they  receive — moral  and  physical  !  What 
gracious  smiles  from  the  hostess,  and  what  dinners  and  teas  from  the  stewards  of  her  hotels ! 

The  Indian,  true  to  that  dominant  emotion  of  his  heart — a  pure  and  reverent  love  of  Nature — 
always  fervently  worshiped  at  this  shrine,  and  baptized  it  humbly — in  sympathy  with  its  own  charac- 
ter and  sentiment — Horicon,  or  the  Silvery  Waters  ;  he  called  it  too  Canideriout,  or  the  Tail  of  the 
Lake,  from  its  relative  position  to  the  proximate  waters  of  Champlain.  The  French  Catholics, 
equally  obeying  the  specialties  of  their  morale,  christened  it,  in  honor  of  their  religious  creed,  Lake 
Sacrament ;  while  the  Anglo-Saxon,  no  less  mindful  of  his  highest  and  holiest  love,  made  it  do  homage 
to  his  egotism,  and  named  it  after  himself— Lake  George  !  To  this  hour,  well-a-day  !  the  voices  of 
poetry  and  of  religion  are  drowned  in  the  more  clamorous  cry  of  human  pride  and  selfishness. 

Who  can  say  what  deeds  of  heroism  and  horror,  of  love  and  hate,  the  shores  and  depths  of  Hor 
icon  may  have  witnessed  in  the  forgotten  ages  of  the  past,  when  the  red  man  alone  was  lord  and 
master.  What  unwritten  histories,  rich  and  strange,  may  lie  buried  in  its  sealed  waters.  Certainly, 
since  its  story  has  found  chroniclers,  numberless  events  of  classic  and  historic  charm  have  clustered 
thick  around  it.  The  poet  and  the  romancer  have  embalmed  it  in  the  quaint  old  rhyme  and  in  win- 
some story.  Brave  armies  lie  under  its  sods,  and  its  ripples  now  break  over  the  graves  of  once  gay 
and  gallant  fleets.  Not  a  few  of  the  most  daring  and  important  events  of  our  Colonial  wars,  and  of 
our  Revolutionary  struggle,  endear  these  haunts  to  the  national  heart.  And  it  is  here  that  the 
thrilling  scenes  of  Cooper's  romantic  novel  "  The  Last  of  the  Mohicans  "  are  laid. 

Lake  George  lies  at  the  head  of  a  valley  of  the  St.  Lawrence.  Extending  southward  through 
Vermont  and  N'ew  York  it  has  a  length  of  thirty-five  miles,  and  an  average  breadth  of  between  two 


28  LAKE   GEORGE. 

and  three  miles.  It  is  in  some  parts  very  narrow,  being  not  more  than  a  mile  wide,  while  its  maxi- 
mum width  is  not  more  than  four  miles.  It  is  noted  for  the  singular  transparency  of  its  waters  and 
the  great  number  of  islands  it  contains.  It  is  in  the  bosom  of  high  hills  and  surrounded  by  huge 
rocks  and  mountains,  and  is  environed  by  forests  which  formerly  were  well-stocked  with  deer.  The 
great  number  of  visitors  have,  however,  driven  the  game  away. 

The  charm  of  many  of  the  islands  and  localities  embraced  in  the  view  from  Caldwell,  is  pleasantly 
heightened  by  associations  of  historic  incident.  Diamond  Isle  was  once  (who,  now  watching  its 
peaceful  aspect,  would  ever  think  it !)  a  depot  for  military  stores  and  war-clad  bands.  Long  Point, 
hard  by,  in  1757  formed  with  the  shore  a  harbor  for  the  bateaux  of  Montcalm.  Yonder  too  are  still 
found  the  ruins  of  forts,  and  other  adjuncts  of  the  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance  of  glorious  war. 
Fort  William  Henry,  the  most  interesting  of  these  relics,  was  built  by  the  English  during  their  colo- 
nial wars  with  the  French,  in  1755.  The  history  of  the  construction  of  this  fort  contains  so  much 
that  is  of  interest  that  we  will  be  pardoned  for  making  a  brief  recapitulation  of  it. 

In  1745,  when  the  French  and  Indian  war  was  beginning  to  be  pushed  with  vigor,  Lake  George 
became  a  medium  for  the  water  transportation  of  troops  ;  but  for  a  long  time  there  was  no  fighting 
on  its  shores.  In  1755,  General  William  Johnson — a  prominent  character  in  the  colonial  history  of 
New  York — sent  out  a  detachment  of  twelve  hundred  men  under  Colonel  Williams  to  attack  the 
French  General  Dieskau,  who  was  stationed  a  few  miles  east  of  the  lake  with  an  army  composed 
largely  of  Indians.  The  disciplined  English  soldiers  were  but. little  acquainted  with  the  Indian 
method  of  warfare,  and  they  soon  found  themselves  in  an  ambuscade.  Their  commander  was  killed 
almost  at  the  first  fire,  and  after  a  short  resistance,  they  retreated  to  the  main  body  who  were  sta- 
tioned on  the  lake-shore.  The  triumphant  French  general  followed,  but  meanwhile  General  Johnson 
had  thrown  up  a  breastwork  of  logs,  which  enabled  his  men  to  fight  to  more  advantage.  After  a 
sharp  battle  of  five  hours  the  French  were  compelled  to  retreat.  General  Johnson  then  erected 
Fort  William  Henry  on  this  spot — a  fort  which  became  one  of  the  strongholds  of  the  English  during 
the  remainder  of  the  war.  It  was  built  of  logs,  filled  in  with  sand,  and  mounted  nineteen  cannon 
and  four  or  five  mortars.  When  Gen.  Montcalm  led  his  forces  against  it,  it  had  a  garrison  of  five 
hundred  men.  After  a  six  days'  resistance  they  were  forced  to  surrender.  They  yielded  on  condi- 
tion that  they  should  be  allowed  to  march  out  with  all  the  honors  of  war  ;  but  when  the  fort  was 
given  up,  Montcalm  found  it  impossible  to  check  the  ferocity  of  his  Indians,  and  the  garrison  was 
massacred  in  cold  blood.  On  the  spot  where  this  tragedy  occurred,  there  is  to-day  a  large  summer 
hotel ;  balls  and  merry-makings  are  frequent,  and  the  air  is  often  filled  with  music  and  laughter  where 
once  resounded  the  war-whoop  of  the  Indian  and  the  death-cries  of  his  victims. 

It  is  no  slight  task  to  determine  in  which  direction  here  to  seek  the  picturesque — whether  in  the 
bosom  of  the  Lake,  on  the  variedly  indented  shores,  or  on  the  overlooking  mountain  tops.  Every- 
where is  abundant  and  perfect  beauty.  Our  only  regret  is,  as  we  offer  our  illustration  of  Lake  George 
taken  in  the  vicinity  of  Rogers'  Slide — an  illustration  which  for  picturesque  beauty  is  not  often  sur- 
passed— that  with  our  best  seekings,  we  may  still  appear  to  the  reader  too  much  like  the  pedant  in 
Hierocles,  submitting  a  brick  as  a  sample  of  the  beauty  of  his  house. 

Rogers'  Slide  is  a  rocky  height  at  one  of  the  narrowest  points  of  the  lake.  Its  name  grew  out  of 
an  incident  in  the  Indian  war.  A  scout  named  Rogers,  who  had  gained  considerable  renown  for  his 
daring  and  skill,  was  one  day  pursued  by  Indians,  and  fled  to  this  spot.  At  the  edge  of  the  preci- 
pice he  loosened  his  snow-shoes,  and  without  changing  their  position,  turned  himself  about  in  them 
and  put  them  on  again  with  the  heels  in  front.  He  then  ran  to  the  southern  brow  of  the  rock,  and 
descending  through  a  gorge  or  ravine  to  the  Lake  sped  away  on  the  ice.  The  Indians  reached  the 
precipice  and  saw  what  seemed  to  be  the  tracks  of  two  men  who  had  apparently  thrown  themselves 
down  the  cliff  in  preference  to  being  captured.  On  looking  over  the  lake,  however,  they  discovered 
Rogers  fleeing  across  the  ice,  and  at  once  their  superstition  suggested  to  them  that  a  man  who  could 
have  descended  the  cliff  in  safety  must  be  under  the  protection  of  the  Great  Spirit,  and  should  not, 
therefore,  be  harmed.  From  that  time  forward  it  was  called  "  Rogers'  Slide."  It  is  with  regret  that 
we  are  obliged  to  detract  from  the  romance  of  this  little  episode  by  stating  that  it  was  subsequently 
established  that  Rogers  was  a  notorious  braggart. 

The  attractions  of  Horicon  will  be  more  perfect  when  time  shall  effect  the  additional  infusion  of 
the  picturesque,  which  will  follow  the  enterprise,  opulence,  and  taste  of  increasing  population.  Though 
now  exhibiting  all  the  elements  of  perfect  beauty,  she  yet  bides  her  time  for  complete  development. 
She  is  now,  to  her  sister  waters  of  the  Old  World,  as  the  untaught  forest  maiden  is  to  the  peerless 


w 

0 
K 
0 

w 
o 


w 

Q 


W 
0 
0 


3o  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE,  KENTUCKY. 

queen  of  the  boudoir  and  saloon.  The  refining  and  spiritualizing  hand  of  art  will  soon  enliven  her 
quieter  features,  and  soften  her  rougher  characteristics.  Ruined  battlements  and  legendary  shrines 
may  never  deck  her  bluffs  and  promontories  in  the  mystic  veil  of  romance,  but  happy  cottages  and 
smiling  homes  of  health  and  content  will  climb  her  rude  acclivities,  and  merry  summer  villas  will  peep 
gleefully  out  of  the  clustering  shrubbery  of  her  lovely  isles,  bringing  to  the  heart  more  grateful 
thoughts  and  hopes  than  would  the  vaunted  accessories  of  older  spots,  inasmuch  as  they  will  whisper 
of  a  yet  higher  civilization  and  of  a  nobler  life. 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE,   KENTUCKY. 


SUBTERRANEAN  cham- 
bers played  an  important 
part  in  the  religious  rites  of  the 
ancients,  having  been  devoted 
to  priestly  ceremonies  not  only 
among  the  barbarous  nations 
who  then  inhabited  Northern 
Europe,  and  among  various  sects 
in  India,  but  also  among  the 
classic  Greeks.  Often  of  un- 
known or  unexplored  depths, 
they  were  well  calculated  to 
support  the  superstitions  upon 
which  the  religions  of  those  days 
were  founded. 

In  our  day,  caverns  are  inter- 
esting only  for  their  natural 
features — their  extent,  location, 
and  arrangement,  and  sometimes 
for  the  fantastic  formations  which 
they  contain.  Kentucky  has 
more  of  these  natural  chambers 
than  any  other  State  in  the 
Union.  Many  of  them  are  but 
a  few  yards  in  depth,  while  others 
extend  under  the  surface  many 
hundreds  of  feet.  During  the 
late  war,  most  of  the  nitre  that 
was  used  was  obtained  from  the 
caves  of  Kentucky,  being  found 
in  abundance  incrusted  on  their 
walls,  from  which  it  is  easily 
detached  with  a  pick. 

Mammoth  Cave  is  the  largest 
yet  discovered.     It  is  in  Kdmon- 
son   county,  near   Green   River, 
about  1 30  miles  from  Lexington 
The  Entrance.  jn  a  south-westerly  direction,  on 

the  road  to  Nashville,  Tennessee. 

It  is  private  property,  and  extends,  it  is  supposed,  ten  miles  underneath  the  earth,  although  owing 
to  the  numerous  windings  no  accurate  estimate  can  be  made.  It  contains  a  great  number  of  stalac- 
tites of  large  size  and  fantastic  form,  although  neither  so  brilliant  nor  so  beautiful  as  some  which  are 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE,  KENTUCKY. 


The  Church. 

found  elsewhere.  Two  hundred  and  twenty-six  avenues  run  through  it,  forty-seven  domes  adorn  it, 
and  there  are  twenty-three  pits  in  it  and  many  streams.  The  aggregate  length  of  the  various  corri- 
dors is  estimated  at  several  hundred  miles ;  but  this  is,  probably,  an  exaggeration. 

The  scenery  in  the  neighborhood  ol  the  cave  presents  no  particular  attractions.  It  lies  amid  ordi- 
nary woodland,  its  entrance  being  at  the  further  end  of  a  ravine  known  as  Cave  Hollow.  The 
declivity  leading  to  it  is  thirty  or  forty  feet  wide,  and  is  formed  of  abrupt  and  broken  steps.  At  the 
bottom  rises  an  arch  of  rudely  piled  rocks,  overgrown  with  a  mass  of  tangled  vegetation,  through 
which  there  is  a  perpetual  dropping  of  water.  The  cave  itself  is  not,  as  might  be  imagined,  one 
spacious  hollow,  but  consists  of  a  multitude  of  passages,  none  of  which  extend  more  than  three 
miles  in  any  one  direction.  About  one  hundred  feet  from  the  entrance  the  progress  of  the  explorer 
is  arrested  by  a  door  set  in  a  rough  stone  wall,  which  crosses  and  completely  blocks  the  entrance  to 
the  cave. 

Passing  through  this  door,  you  enter  a  narrow  passage,  on  the  left  of  which  is  a  wall,  built  by 
miners  to  prevent  the  loose  stones  thrown  up  during  their  work  from  falling,  and  gradually  descend- 
ing a  short  distance  along  this  passage,  you  arrive  at  the  great  vestibule  of  the  cave.  This  is  an 
oval-shaped  hall,  two  hundred  feet  in  length  by  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  width,  and  fifty-five  feet 
high,  with  a  roof  as  flat  and  finished  as  if  it  were  the  work  of  skilled  masons'.  Two  passages  open 
into  it  at  its  opposite  extremities  ;  that  on  the  right  being  known  as  Audubon  Avenue,  while  the 
other  is  the  beginning  of  the  main  gallery  of  the  cave.  The  roof  of  this  great  chamber  consists  of 
a  single  rock  one  hundred  feet  thick,  in  which  the  eye  can  detect  no  break  or  interruption.  Leaving 
the  Rotunda,  and  passing  down  Audubon  Avenue,  the  visitor  arrives  at  a  narrow  passage  winding 
among  loose  rocks,  which  gradually  slopes  to  a  descent  of  seventy  or  eighty  feet,  and  leads  into  a 
spacious  oval  gallery  called  the  "  Church."  This  apartment  is  sixty-three  feet  high,  and  about  one 
hundred  feet  in  diameter.  Eight  or  ten  feet  above  a  peculiar  formation,  which  is  called  the  "  Pulpit," 
is  what  is  known  as  the  "  Organ  Loft"  and  "  Choir."  Religious  services  have  frequently  been  per- 
formed in  this  temple  of  nature. 

Near  the  "  Church  "  are  the  ruins  of  the  old  nitre  works,  and  some  thirty  feet  higher  up  is  a 
large  cave,  connecte'l  with  which  there  is  a  narrow  gallery,  crossing  the  main  cavern,  and  losing 
itself  in  an  opening  on  the  right  known  as  "Gothic  Avenue."  In  this  chamber  there  are  to  be  seen  a 


THE  DEAD  SEA, 


THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE,  KENTUCKY.  33 

number  of  stalagmite  pillars.   The  "  Devil's  Armchair"  is  a  large  stalagmite  column,  in  the  centre  of 
which  is  a  capacious  and  comfortable  seat. 

Returning  from  "  Gothic  Avenue"  into,  the  main  cave  the  interest  of  the  visitor  increases  at  every 
step.  At  a  small  distance  from  the  stairs  by  which  he  descends  is  an  apartment  called  the  "  Bali- 
Room,"  owing  to  its  singular  adaptation  for  such  assemblages.  It  contains  an  orchestra  fifteen  feet 
high,  and  equal  to  the  accommodation  of  a  hundred  musicians,  with  a  gallery  extending  back  to  the 
level  of  the  high  embankment  near  "  Gothic  Avenue,"  while  the  floor  is  level  and  smooth  for  several 
hundred  feet.  Further  on  is  the  "  Giant's  Coffin,"  a  large  rock  on  the  right.  At  this  point  the 
incrustations  on  the  wall  begin  ;  they  are  of  the  most  fantastic  and  varied  shapes.  One  hundred 
yards  beyond  the  "  Coffin"  the  cave  makes  a  long  curve.  Here,  by  means  of  a  Bengal  light,  a  vast 
amphitheatre  may  be  illuminated,  and  a  scene  of  weird  beauty  exposed  to  view.  Opposite  to  this 
point  is  "  Sick-Room  Cave,"  in  which  are  a  row  of  cabins  for  the  use  of  invalids,  it  being  supposed 
that  the  pure  and  temperate  air  of  the  cave,  ,  ombined  with  good  accommodations,  might  afford  a 
cure  for  pulmonary  ronsnmntion. 


The  Bottomless  Pit. 

Next  in  order  is  the  "  Star  Chamber,"  which  presents  a  most  singular  optical  illusion.  Looking 
up  to  the  high  ceiling  the  spectator  seems  to  see  the  firmament  itself,  studded  with  stars  ;  and  far  off, 
a  comet,  with  a  long,  bright  tail.  In  going  into  the  "  Solitary  Chambers,"  the  visitor  must  crawl 
upon  his  hands  and  knees  for  fifteen  or  twenty  feet.  The  "  Fairy  Grotto"  is  distinguished  for  its 
great  number  of  stalactites  of  various  sizes.  Lighted  up  by  lamps  this  cave  has  the  appearance  of 
a  grove  of  coral. 

Returning  from  the  Grotto,  you  re-enter  the  main  cavern,  and  come  next  to  the  "  Temple." 
This  is  an  immense  vault,  covering  an  area  of  two  acres,  roofed  by  a  solid  dome  of  rock  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  feet  high.  In  the  middle  of  this  chamber  there  is  a  large  mound  of  rocks  rising  on 
one  side  nearly  to  the  top,  and  known  as  the  mountain.  This  dome,  however,  is  eclipsed  by  the 
"  Mammoth  Dome,"  which  is  four  hundred  feet  high,  and  is  considered  one  of  the  most  sublime 
spectacles  in  the  cave. 

The  "  River  Hall "  is  a  chamber  situated  at  the  termination  of  "  Relief  Hall,"  through  which  the 


34  MINOTS  LEDGE  LIGHT-HOUSE,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

visitor  must  pass  on  approaching  the  "  Dead  Sea"  and  the  "  Rivers."  The  "  Bottomless  Pit,"  which 
is  situated  hereabouts,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting  portions  of  the  cave.  It  is  a  deep,  dark  pool 
in  the  rocky  floor  whose  depth  is  unknown.  Attempts  have  been  made  to  sound  it,  but  probably 
owing  to  the  lack  of  suitable  apparatus,  they  have  been  unsuccessful.  When  the  "  Pit"  is  illumin- 
ated, its  weird  surroundings  are  strikingly  brought  out.  The  glare,  driving  back  the  shadows  a  short 
distance,  the  walls  of  rock,  on  which  the  flickering  light  battles  with  the  darkness,  and  the  mouth 
of  the  pit  below  so  densely  black  as  to  apparently  justify  its  name — all  these  are  the  constituents  of 
a  scene  which  strongly  impresses  the  imagination. 

On  the  left  of  the  cave  is  a  steep  precipice,  over  which  you  can  look  down  upon  the  black  waters 
of  the  Dead  Sea  eighty  feet  below.  At  the  foot  of  the  slope  flows  the  river  "  Styx,"  and  in  that 
stream  and  the  "  Echo  River"  are  found  the  eyeless  fish.  Beyond  the  "  t-cho  River"  there  is  a  walk 
of  four  miles  to  Cleveland  Avenue,  a  passage  three  miles  long,  seventy  feet  wide,  and  ten  or  fifteen 
feet  high,  beyond  whose  termination  no  explorers  have  passed. 

Guides  are  furnished  at  the  cave,  and  the  visitor  dons  a  peculiar  costume,  that  renders  the  walk- 
ing and  climbing  more  comfortable,  than  otherwise  they  might  be.  The  Mammoth  Cave  is  owned 
by  Dr.  John  Crogan,  who  purchased  it  for  ten  thousand  dollars. 


MINOT'S    LEDGE    LIGHT-HOUSE,    MASSA- 
CHUSETTS. 

THE  history  of  the  light-house  system  in  the  United  States  is  full  of  interest.  The  first  act  of 
Congress  relating  to  it  was  passed  on  August  7,  1789,  when  provision  was  made  that  "all 
expenses  which  shall  accrue  from  and  after  the  I5th  day  of  August,  1789,  in  the  necessary  support, 
maintenance,  and  repairs  of  all  light-houses,  beacons,  buoys,  and  public  piers,  erected,  placed,  or 
sunk  before  the  passing  of  this  act,  at  the  entrance  of  or  within  any  bay,  inlet,  harbor,  or  port  of 
the  United  States,  for  rendering  the  navigation  thereof  easy  and  safe,  shall  be  defrayed  out  of  the 
Treasury  of  the  United  States."  For  the  sake  of  having  a  centralized  authority,  and  to  prevent  any 
possible  conflict  of  jurisdiction  between  the  Federal  and  the  State  governments,  the  above  act  was 
re-enacted,  March  26,  1790,  conditionally  that  "  none  of  the  said  expenses  shall  continue  to  be  so 
defrayed  by  the  United  States  after  the  expiration  of  one  year  from  the  day  aforesaid,  unless  such 
light-houses,  beacons,  buoys,  and  public  piers  shall  in  the  mean  time  be  ceded  to  and  vested  in  the 
United  States  by  the  State  or  States  respectively  in  which  the  same  lie,  together  with  the  lands  and 
tenements  thereunto  belonging,  and  together  with  tlic  jurisdiction  of  tlic  same."  From  and  after 
this  time,  Congress  has  assumed  the  control  of  these  beneficent  aids  of  navigation. 

Until  1852,  our  light-house  system  was  the  poorest  in  the  world.  It  was  under  the  charge  of  the 
Fifth  Auditor,  who  had  other  duties  to  attend  to,  and  was  often  ignorant  of  the  first  principles  of 
light-house  construction  and  maintenance.  Complaints  for  this  reason  became  so  numerous  that  the 
Government  organized  a  commission  to  go  to  Europe  and  inquire  into  the  management  of  light- 
houses there.  The  result  of  this  inquiry  was  the  establishment  of  a  Light-house  Board,  consisting 
of  eight  officers  selected  from  the  navy  and  the  Engineering  corps,  to  whom  the  entire  control  of  all 
light-houses,  light-ships,  beacons  and  buoys  was  given.  From  the  organization  of  this  board  the 
great  improvement  in  our  light-house  system  dates  ;  it  may  now  be  said  to  be  unsurpassed. 

There  are  thirteen  light-house  districts  on  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  coasts,  and  each  district  has 
its  appropriate  officers.  The  present  law  requires  that  a  candidate  for  the  position  of  Keeper  of  a 
light-house  must  be  over  eighteen  years  old,  and  able  to  read  and  write.  No  woman  is  allowed  the 
management  of  a  light,  unless  by  special  permission  of  the  department.  There  are  six  orders  of 
light  in  our  system.  One  is  designed  to  give  warning  of  the  approach  of  land,  and  the  rest  are  to 
mark  headlands,  points  in  rivers,  bays  and  lakes.  There  are  white  and  red  lights,  fixed,  revolving, 
and  flash  lights  ;  there  are  also  fixed  white  lights  showing  a  flash  at  intervals,  and,  in  some  cases, 
two  or  three  white  lights  to  mark  a  headland.  These  differences  are  valuable  in  enabling  approach- 
ing ships  to  distinguish  between  the  various  lights,  and  thus  determine  for  a  certainty  as  to  what 
point  they  are  approaching.  Buoys,  too,  are  set  for  the  guidance  of  seamen. 


MINOT'S     LEDGE     LIGHT-HOUSE,     MASSACHUSETTS. 


36  MINOTS  LEDGE  LIGHT-HOUSE,  MASSACHUSETTS. 

Minot's  Ledge  Light-house,  the  'subject  of  our  sketch,  is  situated  on  Minot's  Ledge,  a  rock  oft' 
the  coast  of  Cohasset,  about  eight  miles  east  of  south-east  of  the  Boston  light,  extremely  dangerous 
to  vessels  sailing  toward  Boston  from  an  easterly  direction.  A  strong  north-east  wind  would  be 
almost  certain  to  cast  them  upon  the  rocks,  but  for  the  warning  light.  The  dangers  of  this  point 
had  attracted  the  attention  of  ship-owners  and  mariners  many  years  ago,  and  in  1847  an  appropriation 
was  made  by  Congress  to  erect  a  light-house  there.  It  was  determined  to  build  an  iron  pile  struc- 
ture sustaining  at  the  top  a  keeper's  dwelling,  and  above  that  an  illuminating  apparatus.  The  struc- 
ture was  to  be  in  the  shape  of  an  octagon,  each  side  at  the  base  measuring  nine-and-a-half  feet,  and 
the  diameter  of  the  circumscribing  circle  twenty-five  feet.  Iron  piles  ten  inches  in  diameter,  where 
they  leave  the  rock,  were  to  be  inserted  to  a  depth  of  five  feet,  at  each  of  the  angles  of  the  octagon 
and  at  its  centre.  The  light-house  was  finished  according  to  this  plan  in  the  fall  of  1849,  but  it 
stood  only  two  years,  being  swept  away  with  its  keeper  in  the  great  storm  of  April,  1851.  Money 
for  rebuilding  it  was  appropriated  in  the  year  following  the  disaster,  and  a  new  design  was  agreed 
upon  by  the  light-house  board,  and  approved  by  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  in  1855.  The  base 
of  the  present  structure  is  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  The  stone-work  is  eighty-eight  feet  high,  and  for 
the  lower  forty  is  a  solid  piece  of  masonry.  It  has  stood  storms  that  were  as  severe  as  the  one  by 
which  the  former  light-house  was  destroyed,  and  it  is  now  believed  to  be  impregnable.  The  cost  of 
.erecting  it  was  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars. 

From  an  article  on  the  subject  of  light-houses  recently  contributed  to  a  magazine  by  the  well- 
known  writer,  Mr.  Charles  Nordhoff,  we  quote  the  following  interesting  facts  :  "  The  lenses  used  to 
enforce,  concentrate,  and  direct  the  higher  grades  of  lights  cost  various  prices,  up  to  eleven  or  twelve 
thousand  dollars.  The  lamp  of  a  first-order  sea-coast  light-house  has  four  concentric  wicks,  the 
outer  one  being  four  inches  in  diameter.  The  oil  is  pumped  up  by  clock-work  or  other  machinery  so 
as  to  feed  these  wicks  constantly  to  their  utmost,  that  they  may  give  out  as  much  light  as  possible. 
The  Fresnel  lens  now  comes  in  to  save  all  the  rays  of  light  which  have  thus  carefully  been  created, 
and  to  concentrate  them  and  send  them  forth  in  that  direction  only  in  which  they  are  required. 
Briefly  described,  the  invention  of  Fresnel  consists  in  surrounding  the  lamp  by  a  series  of  prismatic 
rings  of  glass,  each  different  from  the  others  in  its  angles,  but  all  cut  mathematically  to  such  angles 
that  the  rays  which  go  above  the  proper  plane  and  those  which  fall  below  shall  be  bent  by  refraction 
and  reflection  so  as  to  become  parallel  with  the  lateral  rays.  Thus  all  the  rays  are  saved  and  sent 
out  in  one  sheet  over  the  ocean.  One  of  the  most  important  duties  of  the  keeper  of  a  light  is  to  see 
daily  that  the  light  and  the  lens  are  upon  the  exact  and  proper  level.  A,  deviation  of  only  a  fraction 
of  an  inch  might  throw  the  beam  of  light  toward  the  sky  or  down  toward  the  base  of  the  light-tower, 
and  thus  make  it  useless  to  the  mariner. 

"  There  are  at  this  time  half  a  dozen  electric  lights  in  Europe,  but  their  number  is  not  increasing. 
They  have  proved  extremely  expensive  in  the  maintenance,  requiring  the  use  of  steam-engines  for 
generating  the  electricity.  It  is  said  that  this  light,  which  is,  no  doubt,  more  powerful  than  any 
other  in  clear  weather,  does  not  penetrate  fog  so  well  as  the  oil  light. 

"  Experience  has  shown  our  Light-house  Board  that  the  best  light-keepers  are  old  sailors  and 
soldiers  ;  and  it  is  its  desire,  we  have  been  told,  that  the  maimed  of  those  who  served  in  the  war  for 
the  Union  should,  where  they  are  physically  and  mentally  competent,  receive  these  places.  The 
petty  though  important  place  of  light-keeper  has  too  often  been  made  a  political  prize,  and  thus 
the  service,  which  requires  permanence,  has  been  injured.  In  England  the  light-keeper  holds  his 
office  for  life  or  good  behavior.  He  begins  at  a  less  important  light,  on  a  low  salary,  and  is  promoted 
for  skill  and  attention  to  his  duties. 

"  Fog-signals,  many  of  which  are  required  at  different  points  on  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  coasts, 
are  of  several  kinds.  Some  are  steam-whistles,  the  sound  of  which  is  made  deeper  or  louder  by 
being  sent  through  a  trumpet ;  but  the  most  effective  is  probably  the  Siren.  This  ingenious  ma- 
chine consists  of  a  long  trumpet  and  a  steam-boiler.  The  sound  is  produced  by  the  rapid  revolution 
past  each  other  of  two  flat  disks  pierced  with  a  great  number  of  small  holes  ;  a  jet  of  steam  under 
high  pressure  is  projected  against  the  disks,  which  revolve  past  each  other  more  than  a  thousand 
times  a  minute  ;  as  the  rows  of  small  holes  in  the  two  disks  come  opposite  each  other,  the  steam 
vehemently  rushes  through  and  makes  the  singular  and  piercing  noise  which  a  Siren  gives  out.  One 
of  these  machines  costs  about  $3,500  complete,  with  its  trumpet,  boiler,  Sec." 

The  present  pay  of  light-house  keepers  varies  according  to  the  importance  of  the  light  and  the 
responsibility  put  upon  the  keeper.  The  Congressional  appropriation  covers  an  average  salary  of 


NIAGARA   FALLS.  37 

six  hundred  dollars  per  annum.  The  keeper  of  Minot's  Ledge,  on  the  Massachusetts  coast,  receives 
$1,000,  while  some  keepers  receive  but  $350. 

The  cost  of  light-houses  varies  as  much  as  the  salaries  of  the  keepers.  Some  light-houses-  cost 
ten  thousand  dollars  ;  Minot's  Ledge  lighi  cost  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  the  building  of  this 
structure  being  attended  with  great  difficulty.  General  Alexander,  who  superintended  the  con- 
struction of  the  .present  tower,  was  able  to  get  but  thirty  hours  of  work  done  the  first  year,  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty-seven  hours  the  second.  No  part  of  the  rock  was  ever  uncovered  for  more 
than  a  few  minutes  at  a  time. 

On  the  Atlantic  coast  it  is  the  aim  of  engineers  to  have  the  lights  as  high  as  is  consistent  with 
safety,  while  on  the  Pacific  coast  the  high  rocks  and  cliffs  compel  the  erection  of  the  light-houses 
almost  too  high  for  effective  use.  Point  Lomo,  at  the  entrance  of  San  Diego  bay,  is  nearly  five 
hundred  feet  above  the  sea.  As  the  Pacific  coast  is  much  more  foggy  than  that  of  the  Atlantic, 
the  danger  there  is  that  the  lights  may  be  obscured  by  the  fog.  New  light-houses  are  being  con- 
stantly erected.  At  the  last  session  of  Congress  an  appropriation  was  made  for  the  purpose  of 
building  forty  new  light-houses  at  points  to  be  designated  by  the  Light-house  Board. 

The  history  of  light-houses  dates  from  a  very  early  period,  as  their  obvious  necessity  might  lead 
us  to  expect.  Beacons  to  aid  mariners  were,  from  remote  antiquity,  common  on  the  shores  of  the 
Mediterranean,  the  Archipelago,  the  Bosphorus,  and  the  Red  Sea,  and  the  famous  Pharos  of  Alexan- 
dria— whence  the  French  and  Italian  name  of  light-house  is  derived — was  accounted  one  of  the 
seven  wonders  of  the  world.  The  dimensions  of  this  building  are  not  satisfactorily  known.  Accord- 
ing to  Josephus  the  light  was  visible  about  forty  English  miles. 


NIAGARA   FALLS. 

NEARLY  all  visitors  to  Niagara  experience  a  feeling  of  disappointment  at  first  sight  of  it,  and 
are  inclined  to  pronounce  the  descriptions  they  have  read  of  it  exaggerated.  Especially  is 
this  true  when  the  first  view  is  obtained  from  the  bank  of  the  river  on  the  American  side,  for  only 
from  the  Canadian  shore,  or  from  the  foot-bridge  that  crosses  the  river,  can  the  magnificence  of  the 
spectacle  be  properly  appreciated.  But  from  whatever  point  they  may  be  observed,  the  grandeur  of 
the  Falls  is  more  forcibly  impressed  upon  the  observer  with  every  view  he  takes. 

The  Niagara  river  is  thirty-three  miles  long,  and  is  the  outlet  of  Lake  Erie.  It  forms  part  of  the 
boundary  between  the  United  States  and  Canada,  and  is  the  channel  by  which  the  waters  of  the 
four  great  lakes  flow  into  the  Gulf  of  St.  Lawrence.  The  rapids  of  the  river  are  about  a  mile  long, 
and  begin  sixteen  miles  from  Lake  Erie  ;  their  current  is  very  narrow,  and  the 'water  flows  swiftly 
over  the  rocks,  constantly  growing  in  velocity  and  force,  until  it  dashes  over  the  precipice  at  Niagara. 
At  this  point  the  river  attains  a  width  of  4,750  feet,  one-fourth  of  which  is  Occupied  by  Goat  Island. 
This  island  divides  the  cataract  into  two  falls,  the  American  and  the  Canadian.  The  latter  is  known 
as  "  Horseshoe  Falls,"  from  its  peculiar  shape,  and  has  twice  the  breadth  of  the  American  Fall. 

The  Rapids  are  far  from  being  the  least  interesting  feature  of  Niagara.  There  is  a  violence  and 
a  power  in  their  foaming  career,  which  is  seen  in  no  other  phenomenon  of  the  same  class.  Standing 
on  the  bridge  which  connects  Goat  Island  with  the  Main,  and  looking  up  towards  Lake  Erie,  the 
leaping  crests  of  the  Rapids  form  the  horizon,  and  it  seems  like  a  battle-charge  of  tempestuous 
waves,  animated  and  infuriated,  against  the  sky.  No  one  who  has  not  seen  this  spectacle  of  turbu- 
lent grandeur  can  conceive  with  what  force  the  swift  and  overwhelming  waters  are  flung  upwards. 
The  rocks,  whose  soaring  points  show  above  the  surface,  seem  tormented  with  some  supernatural 
agony,  and  fling  off  the  wild  and  hurried  waters,  as  if  with  the  force  of  a  giant's  arm.  Nearer  the 
plunge  of  the  Fall,  the  Rapids  become  still  more  agitated  ;  and  it  is  almost  impossible  for  the  spec- 
tator to  rid  himself  of  the  idea,  that  they  are  conscious  of  the  abyss  to  which  they  are  hurrying,  and 
struggle  back  in  the  very  extremity  of  horror.  This  propensity  to  invest  Niagara  with  a  soul  and  human 
feelings  is  a  common  effect  upon  the  minds  of  visitors,  in  every  part  of  its  wonderful  phenomena. 
The  torture  of  the  Rapids,  the  clinging  curves  with  which  they  embrace  the  small  rocky  islands 
that  live  amid  the  surge,  the  sudden  calmness  at  the  brow  of  the  cataract,  and  the  infernal  writhe 


NIAGARA   FALLS. 


and  whiteness  with  which  they  re-appear,  powerless  from  the  depths  of  the  abyss,  all  seem,  to 
the  excite;!  imagination  of  the  gazer,  like  the  natural  effects  of  impending  ruin,  desperate  resolution, 
and  fearful  agony,  on  the  minds  and  frames  of  mortals. 

The  waters  sweep  down  the  rapids  with  such  velocity  that  as  they  shoot  over  the  precipice  they 
leap  clear  from  the  rocky  wall,  making  a  curve  behind  which  the  latter  is  distinctly  visible.      This 

space  between  the  rock  and  the  waters  of  the  fall  is 
much  wider  at  the  bottom,  where  they  strike  the 
river,  for  the  stone  there,  being  loose  and  shaky,  has 
bejn  hollowed  out  by  their  continuous  action.  On  the 
Canadian  side  "The  Cave  of  the  Winds"  has  thus 
been  formed  behind  the  fall,  and  visitors,  by  passing 
over  a  rocky  and  dangerous  path,  can  go  beneath  the 
Falls  as  far  as  Goat  Island. 

There  are  two  ways  of  making  this  trip  from  the 
Canadian  side  ;  one  is  by  steps  which  have  been  built 
down  the  face  of  the  wall,  and  the  other  is  from  the 
tower.  Both  of  these  are  private  property,  and  their 
owners  will  furnish  a  guide  and  a  suit  of  oil-cloth  to 
those  who  wish  to  descend.  The  oil-cloth  is  absolutely 
necessary,  for  the  spray  is  like  heavy  rain,  and  with- 
out such  protection  the  visitor  will  become  thoroughly 
drenched.  The  path  that  leads  beneath  the  Falls 
is  covered  with  ice  far  into  summer,  and  is  at  all 
times  both  slippery  and  perilous. 

The  Horseshoe  Fall  has  the  appearance  of  an  im- 
r.i  -:ise  cylinder  turning  over  and  over.  Some  of  the 
many  bazaars  for  the  sale  of  Indian  goods  and  souve- 
nirs have  towers,  and  from  these  a  fine  view  of  the 
cataract  may  be  obtained.  Near  the  American  side, 
Goat  Island  overhangs  the  precipice,  and  shows  its 
rocky  wall ;  and  Prospect  Point — a  fine  place  to  see 
the  Falls  at  sunrise — hems  in  the  river. 

In  the  short  period  during  which  observations  of  the 
Falls  have  been  made  by  men  who  are  more  than 
passing  travelers — a  period  which  extends  back  no 
further  than  to  the  close  of  the  last  century — consider- 
able changes  have  been  made  in  it  by  the  fall  of  masses 
of  rock.  In  1818  large  fragments  became  detached  at 
the  American  fall,  and  the  same  thing  took  place  at 
the  Horseshoe  Fall  ten  years  later.  Old  residents  of 
the  neighborhood  assert  that  the  line  of  the  Falls  has 
in  consequence  receded  fifty  yards  in  forty  years  ;  but 
as  no  exact  measurements  had  been  taken,  this  is  mere 
conjecture.  In  1842,  Prof.  James  Hall,  then  State 
Geologist  of  New  York,  caused  a  careful  survey  to  be 
taken,  and  made  provision  for  obtaining  the  rate  of 
recession  hereafter.  His  published  report  contained 
a  fac-simile  of  a  view  of  the  Falls  taken  by  Father 
Ilennepin  in  1678;  in  this  and  the  accompanying 

description  the  cataract  had  a  striking  feature,  which  has  since  disappeared.  This  is  a  third  fall 
from  the  Canadian  side  towards  the  east,  across  the  main  fall,  caused  by  a  projecting  rock,  which 
turned  the  parted  current  in  this  direction.  To  corroborate  the  truth  of  this  description,  Prof.  Hall 
quotes  that  of  Kalus,  a  Swedish  naturalist,  who  visited  the  Falls  in  1750,  and  published  the  results 
of  his  observations  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  a  year  later.  He  speaks  of  a  rock  having  fallen  a 
few  years  previous  to  his  visit,  by  which  the  three  falls  that  had  before  existed  were  changed  into 
f.vo,  and  indicates  in  an  accompanying  sketch  the  spot  where  it  formerly  stood.  This  evidence  is 


I 


NIAGARA  FALLS. 


39 


sufficiently  reliable  to  prove  that  changes  have  been  and  are  taking  place  in  these  Falls  which  in  time 
may  completely  change  their  appearance  and  character. 
In   the    deep  gorge 
the 


below  the  Falls,  the 
current,  contracted  in- 
to one-fourth  its  space, 
is  borne  in  violent  ed- 
dies and  whirlpools 
along  its  inclined  bed 
toward  Lake  Ontario. 
Notwithstanding  the 
apparent  danger,  the 
river  is  here  crossed 
by  small  boats,  and  a 
little  steamer  takes 
passengers  nearly  to 
the  foot  of  the  cata- 
ract. 

On  each  side  of  the 
river  below  the  Falls 
there  rises  an  almost 
perpendicular  wall  ,and 
the  upper  part  of  the 
stream  can  be  reached 
only  by  means  of  stair- 
ways that  have  been 
constructed  at  various 
points  along  the  banks 
below.  Within  two 
miles  of  the  Falls  is 
the  railway  suspension- 
bridge,  built  by  Mr. 
Roebling  in  1855.  It 
is  thrown  across  the 
gorge  at  a  height  of 
two  hundred  and  fifty- 
eight  feet  above  the 
water,  and  is  supported 
on  each  bank  by  tow- 
ers of  solid  rock,  whose 
centres  are  eight  hun- 
dred feet  apart. 

Twenty-eight  feet 
below  the  railway  track 
there  is  a  carriage  and 
foot-road  for  pedes- 
trians and  vehicles. 
Besides  this,  there  are 
two  other  bridges  near 
Niagara,  the  new  sus- 
pension-bridge just  be- 
low the  Falls,  and  the 
bridge  to  Goat  Island. 
The  descent  be- 
neath the  American  Fall  should  be  made  from  Goat  Island.  Prof.  Tyndall  at  his  visit  ventured, 
with  his  guide,  as  far  under  the  Fall  as  it  was  possible  to  go.  Connected  with  Goat  Island  by 


Un  the  Rocks  below  the  American  Falls. 


THE  EAST  RIVER  SUSPENSION-BRIDGE.  41 

a  foot-bridge  is  Lunar  Island.  A  fine  view  of  the  Falls  may  be  obtained  from  either,  the  Canada 
Falls  being  on  one  side,  and  the  American  on  the  other.  There  is  a  ferry  which  will  take 
the  visitor  across  the  river  for  a  quarter  of  a  dollar,  and  as  it  ventures  quite  near  the  Falls,  he  can 
here  obtain  a  good  view  of  tbe  immense  volume  of  water  which  pours  down  into  the  gorge,  a  distance 
of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet.  The  gorge  itself  bears  striking  indications  of  having  been  cut  by  the 
water,  and  scientific  investigation  has  established  this  to  be  the  true  theory. 

The  sound  of  the  Fall  varies  greatly  with  the  wind  and  the  condition  of  the  atmosphere.  Ordi- 
narily it  can  not  be  heard  more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  while  on  other  occasions,  its  roar  can 
be  distinguished  as  far  as  Lake  Ontario  and  across  its  waters  to  Toronto,  forty-five  miles  distant. 
Many  of  the  early  visitors  to  the  Falls  have  recorded  that  they  heard  the  sound  of  the  waters, 
twenty-five,  thirty,  and  thirty-five  miles  away.  Close  by,  it  is  like  a  monotonous  rumbling  not  un- 
like that  made  by  an  immense  saw-mill,  but  much  deeper  and  fuller. 

Below  the  Falls  the  Niagara  river  flows  swiftly  through  its  walled  banks  for  three  miles.  It  then 
turns  towards  the  Canadian  side,  and  rushing  into  a  depression  in  the  steep  cliff,  emerges  from  it 
almost  at  a  right  angle.  This  place  is  known  as  the  whirlpool,  and  presents  the  appearance  of  having 
been  hollowed  out  by  a  violent  eddy.  The  rive  then  flows  on  over  an  inclined  bed  until  it  reaches 
Lake  Ontario.  In  its  short  passage  of  thirty-three  miles  there  is  a  total  fall  of  334  feet. 

It  is  a  theory  of  some  scientific  men  that  at  one  time  the  drainage  of  the  Lakes  was  through  the 
various  western  rivers  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  It  is  believed  that  this  was  changed  by  a  great  tidal 
wave,  and  that  the  Erie  bank  was  broken  down,  and  a  channel  excavated  whose  bed  was  lower  than 
the  surface  of  the  lake  ;  and  that  the  water  rushing  out  became  the  Niagara  river. 


THE  EAST  RIVER  SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. 


NEVJ^R  was  a  more  important  engineering  work  undertaken,  nor  one  which,  notwithstanding 
its  immense  cost,  is  more  likely  to  be  prolific  of  rich  results  by  the  increased  value  given  to 
real  estate  in  all  parts,  and  particularly  the  outskirts,  of  Brooklyn,  than  the  construction  of  the 
bridge  across  the  East  River.  Geographically  the  greater  portion  of  the  city  of  Brooklyn  is  nearer 
the  business  centre  of  New  York  than  any  part  of  the  latter  city  above  Fourteenth  Street,  and  were 
it  not  for  the  isolation  caused  by  the  necessity  of  twice  daily  going  through  le  mauvais  quart  dheure 
consumed  in  crossing  the  East  River  in  the  crowded  ferry-boats,  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  the 
growth  of  "  The  City  of  Churches  "  would  have  been  even  more  rapid  and  extraordinary  than  that 
which  has  actually  taken  place. 

The  act  to  incorporate  the  New  York  Bridge  Co.,  for  the  purpose  of  building  and  maintaining  a 
bridge  across  the  East  river  between  New  York  and  Brooklyn,  was  passed  by  the  Legislature  of 
New  York  on  the  ist  of  April,  1867,  and  shortly  after  this  date  the  work  on  the  structure  began. 
The  capital  stock  of  the  company  was  placed  at  five  millions  of  dollars,  to  be  divided  up  into  shares 
of  one  hundred  dollars  each.  By  a  clause  in  the  charter  the  corporations  of  the  cities  of  New  York 
and  Brooklyn  are  empowered  to  take  possession  of  the  bridge  and  its  appurtenances  at  any  time  on 
payment  to  the  bridge  corporation  of  its  cost  and  thirty-three  and  one-third  per  cent  additional  ; 
but  if  advantage  be  taken  of  this  proviso,  the  bridge  is  to  be  made  free  to  travelers  and  vehicles. 
It  was  further  enacted,  that  no  pier  should  be  constructed  in  the  river  beyond  the  pier  lines  laid 
down  in  the  Act  of  authorization,  and  that  the  bridge  should  be  built  at  an  ele.vation  of  not  less 
than  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  above  the  river  at  high  tide,  thus  leaving  the  navigation  of  the  East 
river  unobstructed.  It  begins  at  or  near  the  junction  of  Main  and  Fulton  Streets,  in  the  city  of 
Brooklyn,  and  will  cross  the  river  as  directly  as  possible  to  some  point  at  or  below  Chatham  Square, 
not  south  of  the  junction  of  Nassau  and  Chatham  Streets,  in  the  city  of  New  York.  In  addition  to 
the  private  subscriptions  toward  the  capital  stock,  New  York  city  is  to  pay  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars  in  each  of  the  years  1874  and  1875,  and  the  city  of  Brooklyn  the  sum  of  one  million  dollars 
during  the  same  time. 

The  work  of  construction  was  carried  on  under  the  supervision  of  the  late  John  A.  Roebling,  the 
well-known  engineer  and  architect  of  the  Cincinnati  Suspension-Bridge,  up  to  the  time  of  his  decease. 


42  THE  EAST  RIVER   SUSPENSION-BRIDGE. 

This  onerous  position  was  then  transferred  to  his  son,  Mr.  W.  A.  Roebling,  and  at  this  writing  is  still 
held  by  him.  The  plans  and  specifications  adopted  at  the  inception  of  the  enterprise  anticipated 
many  of  the  leading  features  which  have  since  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  great  bridge  at  St. 
Louis.  To  cross  a  river  1,600  feet  in  width  with  a  single  span  had,  up  to  this  time,  been  thought 
beyond  the  limits  of  engineering  skill.  But  the  difficulties  in  this  case  were  much  enhanced  by 
the  fact  that  the  towers  to  support  the  immense  structure  necessary  for  this  purpose  had  to  be 
constructed  under  circumstances  that  rendered  the  usual  modes  of  sinking  piers  impracticable. 
It  was,  therefore,  determined  to  employ  the  method  of  working  by  compressed  air.  Caissons  were 
made  having  the  horizontal  dimensions  of  the  two  piers,  that  on  the  New  York  side  being  102  feet 
by  172.  Each  caisson  was,  in  effect,  a  wooden  box  turned  bottom  upward,  the  interior  space  being 
nine  feet  high.  The  roof  of  the  New  York  caisson  (bottom  of  the  box)  was  twenty-two  feet  thick, 
of  solid  timber  bolted  together,  supported  by  frames  running  from  side  to  side.  These  frames, 
together  with  the  edges  of  the  box,  and  the  upward  pressure  of  the  condensed  air  within  the  cais- 
son, were  to  sustain  the  vast  superincumbent  weight.  The  area  of  the  structure  was  about  17,500 
square  feet. 

The  caissons  having  been  built  on  ways,  were  launched  after  the  manner  of  a  ship,  and  towed  to 
the  points  where  the  piers  were  to  be  located.  Courses  of  granite  blocks  were  then  laid  upon  the  top 
of  the  caisson,  by  which  it  was  sunk  to  the  bed  of  the  river.  Air  was  then  forced  into  the  chambers 
from  the  shore  until  the  water  in  the  interior  space  was  entirely  displaced,  the  engines  working  night 
and  day  to  maintain  the  pressure.  The  workmen  obtained  access  to  the  chamber  by  means  of  two 
shafts  extending  above  the  surface  of  the  water.  At  the  bottom  of  each  shaft  were  two  air-locks, 
simply  ante-chambers  constructed  of  iron,  into  which  the  men  entered  from  the  shafts,  and,  closing 
an  air-tight  door  behind  them,  admitted  the  compressed  air  from  the  caisson  by  means  of  a  cock. 
When  the  pressure  in  the  last  ante-chamber  was  equal  to  that  in  the  caisson,  a  communicating  door 
was  opened,  and  the  men  passed  into  the  chamber  below.  In  going  out  this  process  was  reversed, 
the  compressed  air  in  the  lock  being  allowed  to  blow  off  through  a  cock  into  the  open  shaft.  Great 
care  has  to  be  taken  in  regulating  the  compression  of  the  air,  as  work  in  the  caisson  is  attended  with 
considerable  danger.  Two  men -have  already  died,  and  a  score  or  more  have  been  prostrated,  owing 
to  its  injurious  effects. 

To  secure  proper  foundations  for  the  two  great  towers  was  the  principal  engineering  problem  to 
be  overcome,  and  now  that  these  have  been  built  and  the  towers  erected  on  them,  the  bridge  scheme 
may  be  said  to  stand  on  a  firm  footing  and  its  construction  almost  regarded  as  an  accomplished  fact. 
The  caisson  on  the  Brooklyn  side  of  the  river  was  sunk  into  its  place  during  the  year  1871.  Up  to 
1872  the  borings  for  foundations  on  the  New  York  side  had  been  confined  to  a  small  area  covered  by 
an  old  pier,  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  adjacent  ferry  slips  could  not  be  immediately  vacated.  These 
were  evacuated  by  the  lessees  at  so  late  a  date,  that  experiments  could  only  be  made  with  four  bore- 
holes before  the  caisson  was  ready  to  be  sunk. 

The  bore-holes  developed  the  fact  that  there  was  an  extreme  difference  of  twelve  feet  in  the  level 
of  the  bed  rock,  the  hole  of  the  least  depth  touching  hard-pan  at  a  depth  of  eighty  feet  below  high 
water,  and  the  deepest  at  ninety-two  feet.  The  strata  consisted  in  the  main  of  a  black  mud  deposit 
of  twelve  feet,  followed  by  a  layer  of  coarse  sand  of  six  feet  in  depth,  which  overlaid  a  gravel  bed 
of  the  same  thickness.  Beneath  the  gravel  was  a  very  heavy  deposit  of  quicksand  of  a  depth  vary- 
ing from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet,  and  abounding  with  boulders  in  its  lower  portion.  The  quicksand 
extended  usually  to  within  a  few  feet  of  the  rock,  and,  in  some  instances,  to  the  rock  itself.  But  the 
immediate  rock  surface  was  covered  with  a  compact  layer  of  material  through  which  it  was  impos- 
sible to  drive  a  six-inch  pipe  without  shattering  it.  To  drive  the  pipe  only  one  inch  required  thirty 
blows  of  a  five  hundred  pound  hammer,  falling  from  a  height  of  twenty  feet.  When  the  sinking  of 
the  caisson  commenced,  it  was  not  determined  by  the  engineers  whether  to  go  to  rock  or  to  remain 
above  it.  Further  investigation  into  the  character  of  the  river  bed  convinced  them  that  no  single 
plan  of  operation  would  be  adequate  to  remove  all  the  material  that  would  have  to  be  displaced. 
The  immediate  river  bed  consisted  of  logs  and  loose'  dock  stones  followed  by  a  sticky  black  clay. 
These  materials  could  be  most  conveniently  displaced  by  dredging.  The  river  sand,  and  the  firm 
gravel  underneath  it,  could  be  more  easily  removed  through  pipes,  either  by  means  of  pumps  or  by 
the  air-pressure  direct.  The  coarser  gravel  would  go  to  water  shafts,  while  the  fine  quicksand  could 
be  blown  out  through  the  pipes,  until  the  preponderance  of  the  boulders  and  small  rounded  stones 
compelled  a  return  to  the  water  shafts.  It  was  at  first  determined  to  use  the  dredge  for  this  latter 


SUSPENSION     BRIDGE    CONNECTING    NEW    YORK     WITH     BROOKLYN. 


44  DOWN    THE    MISSISSIPPI   RIVER. 

purpose,  but  it  was  found  by  experience  that  the  dredge  had  not  sufficient  capacity  to  remove  stones 
imbedded  in  quicksand.  After  much  tedious  investigation  a  satisfactory  foundation  was  reached 
in  May,  1872. 

The  probable  cost  of  the  bridge  has  been  estimated  at  $13,045,065.00.  From  this  amount,  how- 
ever, a  large  sum  must  be  deducted  for  land  which  will  lie  under  the  bridge  when  completed,  and  be 
capable  of  utilization.  It  is  expected  that  the  leases  of  these  properties  will  reimburse  the  Bridge 
Company  $1,644,350.00. 

The  original  plans  have  been  considerably  modified  and  altered.  Since  the  first  estimates  were 
made,  it  has  been  found  necessary  to  increase  the  width  from  eighty  to  eighty-five  feet.  Two  out  of 
the  three  sidewalks  that  were  contemplated  have  been  given  up,  and  two  additional  horse-car  tracks 
substituted.  This  change  involved  an  increase  of  seven  per  cent  in  the  cost  of  the  entire  bridge, 
including  superstructures,  tower  foundations  and  anchorages.  The  United  States  Government 
directed  there  should  be  an  additional  elevation  of  five  feet,  an  order  which  necessitated  a  change  in 
the  trusses  and  some  of  the  masonry. 

When  the  cities  of  New  York  and  Brooklyn  take  charge  of  the  management  of  the  bridge,  the 
Board  of  Directors  will  consist  of  twenty  members.  Each  city  is  to  have  the  nomination  of  eight 
members,  the  right  of  appointment  being  vested  in  the  Mayor  and  Comptroller,  and  the  last-named 
gentlemen  are  to  hold  similar  positions  by  virtue  of  their  office. 

There  is  a  strong  inclination  on  the  part  of  New  York  to  throw  off  the  burden  it  has  assumed  in 
this  matter.  It  has  been  freely  argued  that  the  bridge  will  work  to  the  detriment  of  the  metropolis 
by  drawing  off  a  large  share  of  its  population  ;  but  the  city  is  legally  bound  to  fulfil  its  agreement, 
and  although  it  may  succeed  in  delaying  the  opening  of  the  bridge,  it  will  ultimately  be  compelled 
to  pay  its  grant.  When  completed  the  bridge  will  be  the  largest  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  Work  on 
it  is  rapidly  progressing ;  but  although  the  act  of  incorporation  demanded  it  should  be  opened  for 
travel  during  1870,  it  will  not  be  finished  for  three  or  four  years  to  come.  The  tower  on  the  Brook- 
lyn side  has  been  carried  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  sixty-two  feet,  and  the  tower  on  the  New 
York  shore  is  also  attaining  lofty  proportions.  The  Brooklyn  tower,  at  the  springing  line  of  the 
arches,  will  be  two  hundred  feet  high,  and  the  New  York  tower  will  require  an  elevation  of  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  feet  to  bring  it  to  the  level  of  the  roadways. 

Our  picture  of  the  bridge  is  taken  from  the  Brooklyn  side.  The  building  near  it  is  the  office  of 
the  Fulton  Ferry  Co.,  whose  Brooklyn  terminus  adjoins  the  office  of  the  New  York  Bridge  Co. 


DOWN  THE    MISSISSIPPI    RIVER. 

THE  history  of  the  Mississippi  is  in  some  respects  sufficiently  interesting.  The  expedition  of 
De  Soto,  by  whom  it  was  discovered,  was  one  of  the  most  unfortunate  of  the  many  that  were 
set  on  foot  to  search  for  riches  in  the  wilds  of  the  New  World  ;  and  the  subsequent  struggle  for  the 
right  to  navigate  the  river  fills  an  attractive  page  in  the  history  of  America.  Although  De  Soto  was 
the  first  white  man  who  gazed  upon  the  Mississippi,  the  credit  of  exploring  it  belongs  to  Marquette, 
a  Catholic  priest,  and  to  Joliet,  the  Canadian  trader.  These  men  descended  the  Wisconsin  river  to 
the  Mississippi,  and  paddled  down  the  latter  in  light  canvas  a  distance  of  eleven  hundred  miles.  By 
virtue  of  their  discoveries  France  claimed  possession  of  the  whole  of  the  Mississippi  Valley,  and 
that  region  was  subsequently  called  Louisiana,  after  the  king  who  then  reigned.  It  remained  a 
French  province  until  1762,  when  it  was  ceded  to  Spain,  and  continued  the  property  of  that  power 
until  the  year  1800,  when  it  was  ceded  back  to  France. 

During  the  time  that  Louisiana  was  under  the  dominion  of  Spain,  frequent  disputes  arose  between 
the  United  States  and  the  Spanish  authorities  respecting  the  right  to  navigate  the  Mississippi,  which 
at  that  time  was  our  western  boundary.  On  two  occasions  these  disputes  very  nearly  provoked  a  war, 
while  at  another  time  the  trouble  had  taken  such  a  form  that  the  State  of  Kentucky,  having  obtained 
a  promise  of  recognition  from  Spain  and  of  permission  to  use  the  Mississippi  for  commercial  pur- 
poses, was  on  the  point  of  seceding  from  the  Union  and  of  declaring  itself  a  separate  sovereignty. 
After  France  had  regained  possession  of  Louisiana,  the  United  States  Government  instructed  Mr. 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER. 


45 


Livingstone,  then  our  minister  at  Paris,  to  begin  negotiations  for  the  purchase  of  New  Orleans. 
Napoleon  was  at  that  time  First  Consul  of  France,  and  it  was  one  of  his  favorite  projects  to  colonize 
Louisiana,  and  thus  counterbalance  the  influence  of  the  English  colonies  in  the  East ;  but  before  his 
plans  had  matured,  a  war  arose  between  England  and  France.  Mr.  Livingstone,  whose  previous 
negotiations  had  proved  futile,  saw  his  opportunity  and  again  pressed  his  offer  .fur  the  purchase  of 
New  Orleans,  calling  attention  to  a  proposition  in  the  London  papers,  to  send  50,000  men  to  take 
that  fort.  Napoleon,  fearing  that  such  a  step  might  be  taken,  sold  our  Government  all  the  terri- 
tory between  New  Orleans  and  Oregon  for  $15,000,000.  The  cession  was  made  in  April,  1803. 

Only  two  generations  have  passed  away  since  that  time,  and  what  a  marvelous  change  has  come 
over  the  ceded  territory.  From  Minnesota  to  the  Gulf  the  bank  of  the  great  river  is  covered  with 
cities,  factories  and  plantations,  and  the  wilderness  that  once  extended  from  its  western  bank  to  the 
Pacific  coast,  is  built  up  into  powerful  and  flourishing  communities. 

The  Mississippi  takes  its  rise  in  Minnesota,  3,160  miles  from  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  and  1,680  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  ocean,  lat.  47°  N.,  long.  95°  54'  W.  A  little  pool  fed  by  the  neighboring  hills 
discharges  a  little  rivulet,  scarcely  a  span  in  breadth,  and  meandering  over  sand  and  pebbles,  and 
blending  with  it  here  and  there  a  kindred  rivulet,  it  ripples  on,  forming  a  number  of  basins,  until  it 
subsides  at  last  into  Itaska  Lake.  Issuing  from  the  lake  it  first  flows  northward  through  several 
small  lakes,  and  then  in  various  directions,  forming  Cass  Lake,  Lake  Winnipeg,  and  a  number  of 
other  bodies  of  water.  Finally,  directing  its  course  southward,  it  begins  to  show  promise  of  becom- 
ing the  mighty  river  that,  at  its  maturity,  commands  the  admiration  of  mankind. 

Large  steamboats  ascend  the  river  from  New  Orleans  to  St.  Paul,  and  indeed  as  far  as  Fort 
Snelling,  just  below  the  Falls  of  St.  Anthony,  and  the  river  is  navigable  to  small  steamers  for  nearly 
two  hundred  miles  above  the  Falls.  The  country  beyond  the  Great  Falls,  of  surpassing  beauty  and 
fertility,  has  within  the  last  twenty  years  been  added  to  civilization  by  the  great  tide  of  German  immi- 
gration, which  has  steadily  flowed  in  that  direction ;  and  there  is  no  doubt  but  that  this  country,  with 
its  natural  advantages  and  the  industry  of  its  population,  possesses  all  the  elements  of  a  wealthy 
and  powerful  commonwealth.  In  1848,  on  the  site  of  the  present  city  of  St.  Paul,  there  stood  a  few 
log  huts  ;  and  across  the  river  the  Indian  roamed  in  his  wildness  and  freedom  on  his  own  soil.  With 
the  development  of  the  country  of  which  it  is  the  capital,  has  arisen  the  city  of  St.  Paul,  having  a 
population  of  over  twenty  thousand,  with  handsome  public  buildings,  stores  and  factories.  Above 
St.  Paul  are  the  magnificent  Falls  of  St.  Anthony.  Here  may  be  seen  the  sublime  spectacle 


The  Falls  of  St.  Anthony 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER. 


Down  the  Mississippi. 

of  the  whole  volume  of  the  waters  of  the  Mississippi  rushing  and  foaming  along  a  bed  of  huge  rocks, 
and  falling  at  one  part  of  the  cataract,  nearly  twenty  feet  perpendicularly.  The  tumultuous  rapids 
above  and  below  the  Falls,  the  piles  of  rock,  the  swift  current  and  the  spray,  produce  a  coup  tfanl,  at 
once  beautiful  and  imposing.  The  river  is  here  about  six  hundred  yards  in  width,  and  in  its  descent 
is  divided  by  Cataract  Island.  A  dam  having  been  constructed  from  this  point  to  the  eastern  shore, 
almost  the  whole  volume  of  water  now  rushes  through  the  western  channel.  On  the  east  side  of  the 
cataract  is  the  city  of  St.  Anthony,  which,  started  in  1849,  has  steadily  increased  in  prosperity,  and 
is  now  connected,  by  a  suspension  bridge,  with  the  city  of  Minneapolis  on  the  western  side. 

The  Mississippi  and  its  affluents  are  noted  the  world  over  for  their  steamboats.  These  are  some- 
times three  hundred  feet  long,  and  have  three  decks.  The  lower  one  is  for  freight,  the  middle  for 
freight  and  passengers,  and  the  third  (called  the  "  Hurricane  deck")  contains  the  wheel-house  and 
the  sleeping  accommodations  of  the  cabin  employees.  The  grand  cabin  is  on  the  second  deck,  and 
extends  over  the  whole  of  the  boat,  with  the  exception  of  a  small  space  at  the  bows.  It  is  gorgeously 
furnished,  and  is  finished  in  white  and  gold.  The  passengers  on  board  are  good  evidence  of  the 
cosmopolitan  nature  of  our  population.  Immigrants  from  every  country  in  Europe  throng  the  deck, 
and  in  the  cabin  are  seen  a  strange  commingling  of  the  various  types  of  our  social  life. 

Embarking  on  board  of  one  of  these  boats  at  St.  Paul  to  descend  the  river,  we  steam  away  until 
we  reach  Lake  Pepin.  Everybody  knows  that  Lake  Pepin  is  caused  by  an  expansion  of  the  Missis- 
sippi River,  which  gives  it  for  a  distance  of  twenty-five  miles  all  the  appearance  of  a  lake.  Its 
breadth  here  averages  three  miles.  There  are  no  islands  in  Lake  Pepin,  but  all  along  its  shores  are 
high  bluffs  of  picturesque  forms,  crowned  with  shrubbery.  High  above  all  the  rest  looms  the  bare 
front  of  the  "  Maiden's  Rock,"  grand  in  nature,  and  interesting  in  its  romantic  associations.  It  has 
a  sad  story  to  tell  to  each  passer-by  ;  and  as  each  passer-by  always  repeats  it,  we  will  not  be  an 
exception. 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER. 


47 


Winona,  a  beautiful  girl  of  Wapasha's  tribe,  loved  a  young  hunter,  and  promised  to  become  his 
bride.  Her  parents,  like  too  many  in  Christian  lands,  were  ambitious,  and  promised  her  to  a  distin- 
guished young  warrior,  who  had  smote  manfully  the  hostile  Chippewas.  The  maiden  refused  the 
hand  of  the  brave,  and  clung  to  the  fortunes  of  the  hunter,  who  had  been  driven  to  the  wilderness 
by  menaces  of  death.  The  indignant  father  declared  his  determination  to  wed  her  to  the  warrior 
that  very  day.  The  family  were  encamped  upon  Lake  Pepin,  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  rock. 
-Starting  like  a  frightened  fawn  at  the  cruel  announcement,  she  swiftly  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the 
cliff,  and  there,  with  bitter  words,  reproached  her  friends  for  their  cruelty  to  the  hunter  and  her  own 
heart.  She  then  commenced  singing  her  dirge.  The  relenting  parents,  seeing  the  peril  of  their  child, 
besought  her  to  come  down,  and  take  her  hunter-lover  for  a  husband.  But  the  maiden  too  well  knew 
the  treachery  that  was  hidden  in  their  promises,  and  when  her  dirge  was  ended,  she  leaped  from  the 
lofty  pinnacle,  and  fell  among  the  rocks  and  shrubbery  at  its  base,  a  martyr  to  true  affection. 

A  notable  feature  of  the  Mississippi  and  of  its  tributaries  is  the  raft.  Rafts  are  masses  of  float- 
ing timber  which  find  a  ready  sale  at  the  numerous  saw-mills  in  the  vicinity  of  New  Orleans.  The 
flat-boat  (sometimes  called  "broadhorn")  is  built  of  plank,  and  is  sometimes  a  hundred  feet  long, 
and  thirty  broad.  It  is  rectangular,  and  sometimes  roofed  over,  and  is  used  to  carry  the  produce  of 
the  farmers  to  the  large  cities  along  the  river  banks.  Occasionally  a  lumberman  takes  his  family 
with  him  on  board  his  raft,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  these  civilizing  influences  will,  in  the  course 
of  time,  as  in  the  case  of  the  boatmen  on  the  Erie  Canal,  do  something  toward  ameliorating  the 
manners  of  these  rude  pioneers. 

Among  other  points  of  interest,  mention  must  be  made  of  Trempileau  Island,  a  rocky  height 
which  rises  to  an  altitude  of  five  hundred  and  sixty  feet.  The  romantic  beauty  and  picturesqueness 
of  this  island  amply  justifies  the  poetic  name  bestowed  upon  it  by  the  French,  who  called  it  "Mont 
qui  trempe  a  /'can"  (Mountain  which  dips  in  the  water).  Below  this  point  is  the  busy  city  of  La 
Crosse.  Here  the  Valley  of  the  Mississippi  increases  in  width  and  the  hills  are  lost  in  the  distance. 
In  this  part  of  the  river  are  a  great  number  of  small  islands  which  add  greatly  to  the  romantic 
beauty  of  the  scene.  Along  the  shore  on  each  side  are  scattered  towns  more  or  less  interested  in 
the  transportation  of  cereals  ;  but  this  business  is,  each  succeeding  year,  becoming  in  a  greater 
degree  monopolized  by  Dubuque.  After  a  junction  with  the  Wisconsin  river  we  approach  Dubuque, 
the  largest  commercial  city  of  Iowa.  Pursuing  our  course  we  at  last  arrive  at  the  famous  Rock 


The  Raft. 


48 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER. 


•3 

o 


a 
o. 


s 

.8 


O 
A 


Island,  three  miles  long, 
and  having  an  area  of  a 
thousand  acres.  Upon 
this  island  government 
has  erected  arsenals  and 
formidable  fortifications. 
On  the  east  side  of  the 
river  in  Illinois  is  the  city 
of  Rock  Island,  on  the 
west  side,  in  Iowa,  the 
city  of  Davenport.  The 
rapids  which  here  extend 
for  a  distance  of  fifteen 
miles,  interfere  greatly 
with  navigation,  and 
make  it  very  difficult  to 
ascend  the  river  with 
heavily  -  laden  freight- 
boats.  Steam-boat  men 
complain  bitterly  of  the 
railroad  draw  -  bridges 
which  connect  the  Illi- 
nois and*  Iowa  shores 
with  Rock  Island,  and  it 
must  in  fairness  be  con- 
ceded, bearing  in  mind 
the  natural  obstacles 
that  they  have  to  over- 
come at  this  point,  that 
this  additional  impedi- 
ment presses  rather  hard- 
ly on  them. 

Between  Rock  Island 
and  St.  Louis  there  is  lit- 
tle of  interest.  But  what 
a  spectacle  is  unfolded  to 
our  view  as  we  approach 
the  city  which  is  pre- 
eminently the  "  Queen  of 
the  Mississippi."  "  The 
town  seems  as  old  as 
London.  The  smoke 
from  the  Illinois  coal  has 
tinged  the  walls  a  vener- 
able brown,  and  the 
grouping  of  buildings  is 
as  picturesque  and  varied 
as  that  of  a  continental 
city.  From  the  water 
side,  on  ridge  after  ridge, 
rise  acres  of  solidly  built 
houses,  vast  manufacto- 
ries, magazines  of  com- 
merce, long  avenues  bor- 
dered with  splendid  resi- 
dences ;  a  labyrinth  of 
railways  bewilders  the 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER.  49 

eye ;  and  the  clang  of  machinery  and  the  whirl  of  a  myriad  wagon-wheels  rise  to  the  ear.  The 
levee  is  thronged  with  busy  and  uncouth  laborers  ;  dozens  of  white  steamers  are  shrieking  their 
notes  of  arrival  and  departure  ;  the  ferries  are  choked  with  traffic  ;  a  gigantic  and  grotesque  scram- 
ble for  the  almost  limitless  West  beyond  is  spread  out  before  the  vision." 

The  first  habitations  on  the  site  of  the  present  city  were  erected  in  1 764,  by  Laclede  Liguest, 
who,  the  previous  year,  had  started  from' the  French  colony  of  New  Orleans  to  explore  the  turbid 
waters  of  the  Missouri.  It  does  not  appear  that  his  expedition  was  very  successful,  for  he  speedily 
returned  from  the  confluence  of  the  two  rivers  to  St.  Louis,  the  new  outpost  named  after  Louis  XV., 
the  reigning  king  of  France.  Subsequently  the  whole  of  the  vast  territory  known  as  Louisiana1  was 
ceded  by  France  to  Spain.  Notwithstanding  the  heart-burnings  which  the  occupation  of  a  French 
city  by  Spanish  soldiers  caused,  a  fusion  soon  took  place,  and  both  parties  agreed  in  heartily  hating 
the  English.  After  many  vicissitudes  the  whole  settlement,  being  a  part  of  what  was  then  known 
as  Louisiana,  was,  in  1804,  annexed  to  the  United  States.  "  Since  the  late  war,"  says  a  recent 
writer,  "  the  town  has  leaped  into  a  new  life,  it  has  doubled  its  population,  its  manufactures  and  its 
ambition,  until  it  stands  so  fully  abreast  of  its  wonderful  neighbor,  Chicago,  that  the  traditional 
acerbity  of  the  reciprocal  criticism  for  which  both  cities  have  so  long  been  famous  is  latterly  much 
enhanced.  The  city,  which  now  stretches  twelve  miles  alorig  the  ridges,  branching  from  the  water* 
shed  between  the  Missouri,  the  Maramec  and  the  Mississippi  rivers,  flanked  by  rolling  prairies  richly 
studded  with  groves  and  vineyards  ;  which  has  many  railroad  lines  pointed  to  its  central  depots,  and 
a  mile  and  a  half  of  steamboats  at  its  levee,  a  thousand  miles  from  the  sea  ;  whose  population  has 
increased  from  8,000,  in  1835,  t°  450,000,  in  1873  ;  which  has  a  banking  capital  of  nineteen  millions  ; 
which  receives  hundreds  of  thousands  of  tons  of  iron  ore  monthly,  has  bridged  the  Father  of  Waters, 
and  talks  of  controlling  the  cotton  trade  of  Arkansas  and  Texas, — is  but  little  like  the  St.  Louis  of 
the  days  when  Col.  Stoddard  had  his  headquarters  in  a  rude  cottage,  and  the  United  States,  in  his 
person,  had  just  adopted  the  infant  city." 

The  bridge,  of  which  we  furnish  an  illustration,  will  have  a  vast  influence  on  the  fortunes  of  the 
city.  Work  was  begun  on  it  in  January,  1868.  The  stonework  was  finished  last  December,  and  the 
superstructure  completed  in  May,  1874.  The  caisson- work  is  said  to  be  a  marvel  of  engineering 
skill,  and  laid  even  deeper  than  that  of  the  Brooklyn  Bridge.  The  eastern  abutment  rests  on  a  solid 
foundation  1 10.6  feet  below  the  surface.  The  masonry  measures  103,000  cubic  yards — 39,000  yards 
more  than  the  famous  structure  over  Menai  Straits,  in  North  Wales,  England.  The  centre  span  is 
526  feet  clear  of  the  piers,  and  the  bridge  proper  is  1,627  fget  long-  It  accommodates  two  double 
railway  tracks,  foot-walks,  street-railway  tracks,  and  a  track  for  ordinary  vehicles.  The  entire  cost 
of  the  structure  was  about  $11,000,000.  It  was  opened  on  the  4th  of  July,  1874,  with  appropriate 
ceremonies,  amid  a  grand  display  of  fireworks  and  oratory. 

The  river  is  the  principal  highway  to  all  the  cities  along  its  banks,  and  whenever  it  is  closed 
owing  to  low  water  or  ice,  there  is  an  immediate  and  severe  depression  in  business.  All  varieties  of 
boats  are  seen  on  the  Mississippi.  The  fine  large  steamboats,  the  strong  flat-bottomed  packets,  the 
cruisers  to  the  Upper  Mississippi,  and  the  Missouri  barges  laden  with  iron,  lead,  coal  and  copper,  the 
huge  grain  transports,  and  rafts  of  every  size.  When  the  ice-gorge  comes,  the  boatmen  on  the 
Upper  Mississippi  suffer  severely.  Property  to  the  value  of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars  is 
often  lost  at  this  time. 

The  velocity  of  the  current  increases  below  St.  Louis,  the  river  having,  above  the  city,  received 
the  vast  volume  of  the  Missouri,  but  the  scenery  is  attended  with  a  degree  of  sameness  that  leaves 
little  room  for  description.  Probably  at  no  portion  of  the  three  thousand  miles  of  its  course  is  the 
Mississippi  more  uninteresting  than  in  the  vicinity  of  Cairo,  where  the  waters  of  the  Ohio  River  join 
it.  Not  by  any  means  a  desirable  place  of  abode  is  Cairo,  and  the  severe  description  given  of 
it  in  Dickens'  American  Notes  is  not  unmerited. 

"  At  length  we  arrived  at  a  spot  so  much  more  desolate  than  any  we  had  yet  beheld,  that  the 
forlornest  places  we  had  passed  were,  in  comparison  with  it,  full  of  interest.     At  the  junction  of  the  • 
two  rivers,  on  ground  so  flat  and  low  and  marshy  that  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year  it  is  inundated 
to  the  house-tops,  lies  a  breeding-place  of  fever,  ague,  and  death.     A  dismal  swamp,  on  which  the 
half-built  houses  rot  away ;  cleared  here  and  there  for  the  space  of  a  few  yards  ;  and  teeming,  then, 
with  rank  unwholesome  vegetation,  in  whose  baleful  shade  the  wretched  wanderers  who  are  tempted 
hither,  droop,  and  die,  and  lay  their  bones  ;  the   hateful   Mississippi  circling  and  eddying  before  it, . 
and  turning  off  upon  its  southern  course,  a  slimy  monster  hideous  to  behold.       *  * 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER.  51 

"  The  decline  of  day  here  was  very  gorgeous  ;  tingeing  the  firmament  deeply  with  red  and  gold, 
up  to  the  very  keystone  of  the  arch  above  us.  As  the  sun  went  down  behind  the  bank,  the  slightest 
blades  of  grass  upon  it  seemed  to  become  as  distinctly  visible  as  the  arteries  in  the  skeleton  of  a 
leaf,  and  when,  as  it  slowly  sank,  the  red  and  golden  bars  upon  the  water  grew  dimmer,  and  dimmer 
yet,  as  if  they  were  sinking  too  ;  and  all  the  glowing  colors  of  departing  day  paled,  inch  by  inch, 
before  the  sombre  night ;  the  scene  became  a  thousand  times  more  lonesome  and  more  dreary  than 
before,  and  all  its  influences  darkened  with  the  sky." 

Mr.  Dickens  here,  by  indulging  in  generalization,  like  so  many  other  travelers  from  time  imme- 
morial, did  great  injustice  to  the  Mississippi.  Before  its  confluence  with  the  Missouri  River,  its 
waters  are  of  remarkable  purity  ;  after  the  junction  they  contain  about  three-tenths  of  sedimentary 
matter.  We  hardly  need  say,  too,  that  the  towns  of  the  more  northern  part  of  the  river  are  as 
bright,  and  as  clean  and  healthy,  as  any  to  be  found  on  the  surface  of  our  broad  land. 

Memphis,  the  most  important  port  on  the  Mississippi  between  St.  Louis  and  New  Orleans,  pre- 
sents a  remarkably  fine  appearance  from  the  river.  An  esplanade,  having  a  width  of  several  hundred 
feet  and  bordered  with  blocks  of  large  warehouses,  extends  along  the  bluff  in  front  of  the  town.  It 


vr-   .     .j — 
The  Levee. 


has  doubled  in  population  in  ten  years,  and  now  has  forty-five  thousand  inhabitants.  Vicksburg, 
celebrated  for  its  historic  siege,  Natchez,  and  Baton  Rouge,  the  capital  of  Louisiana,  are  the  other 
principal  river  towns. 

To  those  who  have  very  magnificent  conceptions  of  the  Mississippi,  founded  on  mere  arithmetical 
computations  of  leagues,  or  vague  geographical  data,  it  may  be  astonishing,  but  it  is  nevertheless 
true,  the  Mississippi  is  artificial  for  many  hundreds  of  miles.  Nature  has,  of  course,  poured  out  the 
waters,  but  man  has  made  the  banks.  By  a  vast  system  of  raised  embankments,  called  levees,  the 
river  is  constrained  to  abstain  from  overflowing  the  swamps,  now  drained,  and  green  with  wealth- 
producing  crops.  During  the  spring  floods  the  surface  of  the  river  is  several  feet  higher  than  the 
land  on  each  side,  and  the  steamer  moves  on  a  level  with  the  upper  stories,  or  even  the  roofs  of  the 
houses,  reminding  one  of  such  scenery  as  could  be  witnessed  in  the  old  days  of  treckshuyt  in  Hol- 
land. The  river  varies  in  width  from  600  to  1,200  yards,  but  then  it  is  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet 
deep,  and  for  hundreds  of  miles  it  has  not  less  than  one  hundred  feet  of  water.  Thus  deeply  has  it 
scooped  into  the  rich  clay  and  marl  in  its  course  :  but  as  it  flows  out  to  join  the  sea,  it  throws  down 
the  vast  precipitates  which  render  the  bars  so  shifting  and  difficult,  and  bring  the  mighty  river  to 


52  DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI  RIVER. 

such  a  poor  exit.  Great  masses  of  earth,  amounting  to  thousands  of  acres  in  the  course  of  a  year, 
cave  in  annually  and  slide  into  the  stream,  uprooting  great  numbers  of  forest-trees,  which  float  out 
with  the  waters,  and  become  the  most  dangerous  obstructions  to  navigation.  They  accumulate  on 
sand-bars  and  in  the  short  bends  of  the  river,  and  are  soon  covered  by  deposits  of  earth,  forming 
new  islands  or  high  swampy  land.  Others  will  firmly  fasten  themselves  in  the  channel  and  become 
the  perilous  "  snag"  or  the  formidable  "  sawyer."  A  few  miles  above  the  wharfs  and  large  levees  of 
New  Orleans,  the  country  really  appears  to  be  a  sea  of  light  green,  with  shores  of  forest  in  the  dis- 
tance, about  two  miles  away  from  the  bank.  Near  the  banks  are  houses  of  wood,  with  porticoes, 
pillars,  verandahs,  and  sun-shades,  generally  painted  white  and  green.  There  is  a  great  uniformity 
of  style,  but  the  idea  aimed  at  seems  to  be  that  of  the  old  French  chateau,  with  the  addition  of  a 
colonnade  around  the  ground  story.  The  levee  is  as  hard  and  dry  as  the  bank  of  the  canal. 

The  spring  floods,  raising  the  river  from  fifty  to  seventy  feet — at  low  water  the  stream  is  com- 
.paratively  narrow,  and  on  either  side  the  banks  are  high  and  sandy — bring  anxious  days  to  the 
inhabitants.  Sometimes  the  current,  wearing  away  the  levee,  overflows  the  country  to  the  extent  of 
thirty  miles.  The  destruction  of  property  caused  by  these  "crevasses"  is  very  great.  During 


Removing  Snags  by  Dredging. 


the  spring  of  1874,  a  considerable  portion  of  the  State  of  Louisiana  was  under  water,  owing  to  one 
of  these  crevasses,  and  thousands  of  persons  were  rendered  homeless.  The  destruction  of  crops 
and  farming  utensils  made  a  famine  so  imminent,  that  the  people  were  compelled  to  appeal  for  assist- 
ance to  Congress  and  the  country  at  large.  This  last  break  is  to  be  traced  to  the  present  corrupt 
government  of  the  State,  which,  instead  of  using  for  its  legitimate  purpose  the  money  appropriated 
for  the  repair  of  the  levees, wasted  or  stole  it.* 

The  city  of  New  Orleans  extends  from  the  Mississippi  river  to  the  shores  of  Lake  Pontchartrain  ; 
but  part  of  this  area,  being  covered  by  cypress  swamps,  remains  to  be  filled  up.  The  canals  which 
run  from  the  city  to  the  lake,  are  very  picturesque ;  those  known  as  Old  and  New  Basin  are  both 
navigable,  and  large  steamers  pass  through  them  to  the  lake,  and  schooners  laden  with  produce  and 

*  A  recent  writer  in  Appleton's  Journal  argues  against  the  policy  of  reclaiming  lands  by  closing  up  the  bayoua.  He 
contends  that  the  annual  overflow  of  the  Mississippi  might  be  prevented  by  opening  the  mouths  of  the  bayous,  and  allowing 
the  surplus  waters  of  the  Mississippi  to  find  their  way  to  the  lakes,  or  the  Gulf,  through  them.  It  is  at  the  bends  of  the  river, 
where  the  water  strikes  the  levees  with  the  greatest  force,  that  the  bayous  take  their  departure.  If,  therefore,  say  those  who 
hold  these  views,  there  is  a  way  of  limiting  the  strength  of  the  current  during  the  floods,  by  letting  the  water  flow  off  by  these 
channels.and  thus  materially  reducing  its  volume.the  mouths  of  the  bayous  should  be  opened  and  levees  built  along  their  banks. 


DOWN    THE   MISSISSIPPI   RIVER. 


53 


lumber  are  towed  in  and  out  by  mules.  The  danger  of 
overflow  from  the  Mississippi  and  the  wet,  marshy  nature 
of  the  soil,  make  good  drainage  a  necessity  to  the  health 
of  the  population.  Notwithstanding  the  severe  blow 
which  the  war  gave  the  commercial  interests  of  the  city, 
it  is  still  one  of  the  first  ports  of  the  country.  When 
some  of  the  many  plans  which  have  been  suggested  to 
make  her  the  outlet  for  the  grain  product  of  the  North- 
west come  to  be  executed,  the  increase  to  her  business 
prosperity  will  be  immense.  A  capacious  barge  system 
is  at  present  in  operation  on  the  rivers,  and  an  all-rail 
communication  with  the  two  great  cities  of  the  North- 
west will,  probably,  be  established  at  an  early  day.  The 
Illinois  Central  Railroad,  by  building  a  line  from  Jackson, 
Tenn.,  to  the  Ohio  river  opposite  Cairo,  will  bring  the 
commercial  interests  of  New  Orleans  in  close  relation 
with  those  of  Chicago,  and  make  the  journey  between 
the  two  cities  a  trip  of  only  thirty  six  hours. 

The  city  has  two  distinct  parts — the  American  quar- 
ter, and  the  French.  The  former  is  much  superior  in  the 
width  of  its  avenues  and  the  beauty  of  its  architecture. 
Among  its  notable  buildings  are  the  St.  Charles  Hotel, 
the  Academy  of  Music,  the  St.  Charles  Theatre,  the 
Masonic  Hall,  the  Exposition  Hall,  and  the  City  Hall. 
The  last-named  structure  is  of  granite  and  white  marble, 
built  in  the  Ionic  style,  with  a  fine  portico  and  massive 
granite  pillars.  There  are  one  hundred  and  sixteen 
churches  in  the  city,  representing  all  shades  of  religious 
belief;  but  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  owing  to  the 
French  population,  is  in  the  majority. 

The  cotton  trade  gives  New  Orleans  much  of  its  pic- 
turesque vivacity,  and  contributes  largely  to  its  support. 
It  receives  most  of  the  cotton  crop  of  Louisiana  and 
Northern  Mississippi,  of  Northern  Alabama,  Arkansas, 
and  Florida.  Between  January  and  May,  which  is  the 
busy  season  of  the  year,  the  labor  is  almost  unceasing 
at  the  Cotton  Exchange  and  in  all  the  prominent  ware- 
houses. Some  attention,  also,  has  been  given  to  the 
manufacture  of  cotton,  and  two  factories  have  already 
been  established  which  are  clearing  a  profit  of  from 
eighteen  to  twenty-five  per  cent.  One  of  them  is  located 
at  Beauregard,  the  other  at  the  penitentiary. 

One  of  the  greatest  evils,  from  which  New  Orleans 
suffers,  is  the  enormity  of  its  taxes.  Its  city  debt  is 
estimated  at  twenty-three  millions  of  dollars,  and  it  is 
responsible  for  nearly  three-fifths  of  the  State  debt  of 
$42,000,00x3.  The  consequence  of  this  condition  of 
things,  arising  from  the  notoriously  corrupt  government 
which  has  been  in  power  for  the  last  few  years,  is  that 
the  price  of  real  estate  has  declined  fifty  per  cent.  Not- 
withstanding these  adverse  influences,  the  census  of  1870 
gave  New  Orleans  a  population  of  one  hundred  and 
ninety-one  thousand,  an  increase  of  nearly  fifty  per  cent 
over  that  of  1860.  That  the  city  should  make  any  pro- 
gress at  all,  in  view  of  these  drawbacks,  speaks  volumes 
for  its  natural  advantages,  and  proves  it  possessed  of 


54      HOT  SPRINGS  AND   GEYSERS  OF    THE    YELLOWSTONE. 

elements  which,  if  properly  appreciated,  and  in  more  propitious  days,  will  raise  it  to  the  highest 
commercial  importance  and  prosperity. 

It  is  a  well-known  peculiarity  of  the  Mississippi,  that,  as  it  approaches  its  mouth,  it  grows  nar- 
rower. After  passing  New  Orleans  the  depth  of  the  river  diminishes,  and  at  a  distance  of  one  hun- 
dred miles  from  the  city  the  stream  is  lost  in  the  low,  marshy  lands.  Here  the  current  is  divided 
into  three  channels,  which  flow  through  the  half-formed  soil,  and  out  into  the  Gulf.  Unfortunately 
for  the  purposes  of  navigation  the  depth  in  these  passes  is  never  great,  and  varies  under  the 
influence  of  wind  and  weather. 


HOT    SPRINGS    AND    GEYSERS    OF    THE 

YELLOWSTONE. 


NEAR  the  lower  end  of  the  third  canon, 
Gardiner's  River,  a  mountain  torrent, 
effects  a  junction  with  the  Yellowstone,  and  it  is 
up  the  valley  through  which  this  stream  flows,  a 
distance  of  four  miles  from  the  point  where  the 
two  rivers  meet,  that  the  famous  hot  springs  are 
located.  It  is  hardly  possible  to  find  words  to 
express  the  desolation  which  here  exists.  Along 
the  valley  are  strewn  boulders  of  volcanic  rock; 
and  stagnant  lakes,  from  fifty  to  one  hundred 
feet  in  diameter,  owing  their  existence  to  vol- 
canic action  in  long  gone  ages,  are  scattered  here 
and  there.  It  is  necessary  to  make  a  divergence 
of  about  two  miles  from  the  bed  of  the  river, 
across  a  most  barren  and  elevated  country,  to 
reach  the  first  hot  spring.  This  is  six  feet  wide, 
and  has  a  depth  of  two  feet,  with  a  temperature 
ranging  from  126"  to  132°  Fahr.  Still  ascend- 
ing, but  returning  toward  the  river-bed,  we  reach 
four  other  springs,  circular  in  their  form,  and 
varying  in  diameter  from  six  to  ten  feet.  It  is  in 
this  vicinity  that  we  find  the  extraordinary  de- 
posits formed  by  the  springs  in  distant  ages,  the 
snowy  whiteness  of  which  at  once  suggested  the 
name  of  White  Mountain  Hot  Spring,  from  the 
remarkable  resemblance  these  deposits  bear  to 
a  frozen  cascade.  The  deposits  cover  an  area 
of  four  square  miles,  but  the  springs  in  active 
operation  are  to  be  found  within  an  area  of  one 
square  mile.  The  oxide  of  iron  in  the  water 
gives  the  streams  that  flow  down  the  White 
Mountain  the  most  beautiful  tints  of  red,  the 
most  exquisite  shades  of  yellow,  and  the  most 
brilliant  green.  Falling  down  the  declivity  from 
one  basin  to  the  other,  and  gradually  cooling  in 
its  descent,  the  water  becomes  at  a  distance  of 
five  hundred  yards  from  the  first  spring  as  cool 
and  clear  as  spring  water.  There  are  hun- 
dreds of  these  reservoirs,  and  the  party  of  Dr. 


The  Hot  Springs  near  Gardiner's  River. 


56       HOT  SPRINGS  AND    GEYSERS   OF  THE    YELLOWSTONE. 


Boiling  Sulphur   Springs. 

Hay  den  bathed  in  a  great  number  of  them,  each  individual  being  able  to  choose  the  degree  of  heat 
agreeable  to  him. 

The  margins  of  the  basins  are  beautifully  scalloped,  and  formations  of  exquisite  beauty  are  en- 
crusted on  them.  The  wonderful  variety  of  these  deposits  excited  the  admiration  of  the  party. 
The  report  of  Dr.  Hayden  says,  in  treating  finally  of  this  neighborhood  :  "But  it  is  to  the  wonder- 
ful variety  of  exquisitely  delicate  colors  that  this  picture  owes  the  main  part  of  its  attractiveness. 
The  little  orifices  from  which  the  hot  water  issues  are  beautifully  enameled  with  the  porcelain-like 
lining,  and  around  the  edges  a  layer  of  sulphur  is  precipitated.  As  the  water  flows  along  the  valley, 
it  lays  down  in  its  course  a  pavement  more  beautiful  and  elaborate  in  its  adornment,  than  art  has 
ever  yet  conceived.  The  sulphur  and  the  iron,  with  the  green  microscopic  vegetation,  tint  the 
whole  with  an  illumination  of  which  no  decoration-painter  has  ever  dreamed.  From  the  sides  of  the 
oblong  mound,  which  is  here  from  thirty  to  fifty  feet  high,  the  water  has  oozed  out  at  different  points, 
forming  small  groups  of  the  semicircular,  step-like  basins. 

"  Again,  if  we  look  at  the  principal  group  of  springs  from  the  high  mound  above  the  middle  ter- 
race, we  can  see  the  same  variety  of  brilliant  coloring.  The  wonderful  transparency  of  the  water 
surpasses  anything  of  the  kind  I  have  ever  seen  in  any  other  portion  of  the  world.  The  sky,  with 
the  smallest  cloud  that  flits  across  it,  is  reflected  in  its  clear  depths,  and  the  ultramarine  colors,  more 
vivid  than  the  sea,  are  greatly  heightened  by  the  constant  gentle  vibrations.  One  can  look  down 
into  the  clear  depths  and  see,  with  perfect  distinctness,  the  minutest  ornament  on  the  inner  sides  of 
the  basins  ;  and  the  exquisite  beauty  of  the  coloring  and  the  variety  of  forms  baffle  any  attempt  to 
portray  them,  either  with  pen  or  pencil.  And  then,  too,  around  the  borders  of  these  springs,  espe- 
cially those  of  rather  low  temperature,  and  on  the  sides  and  bottoms  of  the  numerous  little  channels 
of  the  streams  that  flow  from  these  springs,  there  is  a  striking  variety  of  the  most  vivid  colors.  I 
can  only  compare  them  to  our  most  brilliant  aniline  dyes — various  shades  of  red,  from  the  brightest 
scarlet  to  a  bright  rose  tint ;  also  yellow,  from  deep-bright  sulphur,  through  all  the  shades,  to  light 
cream-color.  There  are  also  various  shades  of  gree  \  from  the  peculiar  vegetation.  These  springs 
are  also  filled  with  minute  vegetable  forms,  which  under  the  microscope  prove  to  be  diatoms,  among 
which  Dr.  Billings  discovers  Palmella  and  Osdllara.  There  are  also  in  the  little  streams  that  flow 
from  the  boiling  springs  great  quantities  of  a  fibrous,  silky  substance,  apparently  vegetable,  which 
vibrates  at  the  slightest  movement  of  the  water,  and  has  the  appearance  of  the  finest  quality  of 
cashmere  wool.  When  the  waters  are  still  these  silken  masses  become  incrusted  with  lime,  the 
delicate  vegetable  threads  disappear,  and  a  fibrous,  spongy  mass  remains,  like  delicate  snow- 
white  coral." 

On  the  way  from  Mount  Washburn  to  the  Upper  Falls  the  party  of  Mr.  Langford  came  across 
six  or  eight  boiling  springs  of  great  size,  which  emitted  large  quantities  of  sulphurous  vapor.  "  It 
looked  like  nothing  earthly  we  had  ever  seen,  and  the  pungent  fumes  which  filled  the  atmosphere 
were  not  unaccompanied  by  a  disagreeable  sense  of  possible  suffocation.  Entering  the  basin  cau- 
tiously, we  found  the  entire  surface  of  the  earth  cbvered  with  the  incrusted  sinter  thrown  from  the 


HOT  SPRINGS  AND    GEYSERS  QF    THE    YELLOWSTONE.         57 

springs.  Jets  of  hot  vapor  were  expelled  through  a  hundred  natural  orifices  with  which  it  was 
pierced,  and  through  every  fracture  made  by  passing  over  it.  The  springs  themselves  were  as 
diabolical  in  appearance  as  the  witches'  caldron  in  Macbeth,  and  needed  but  the  presen'ce  of  Hecate 
and  her  weird  band  to  realize  that  horrible  creation  of  poetic  fancy.  They  were  all  in  a  state  of 
violent  ebullition,  throwing  their  liquid  contents  to  the  height  of  three  or  four  feet.  The  largest 
had  a  basin  twenty  by  forty  feet  in  diameter.  Its  greenish-yellow  water  was  covered  with  bubbles, 
which  were  constantly  rising,  bursting,  and  emitting  sulphurous  gas  from  various  parts  of  its  surface. 
The  central  spring  seethed  and  bubbled  like  a  boiling  caldron.  Fearful  volumes  of  vapor  were  con- 
stantly escaping  it.  Near  it  was  another,  not  so  large,  but  more  infernal  in  appearance.  Its  con- 
tents, of  the  consistency  of  paint,  were  in  constant,  noisy  ebullition.  A  stick  thrust  into  it,  on  being 
withdrawn,  was  coated  with  lead-colored  slime  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  thickness.  Nothing  flows 
from  this  spring.  Seemingly,  it  is  boiling  down.  A  fourth  spring,  which  exhibited  the  same  physical 
features,  was  partly  covered  by  an  overhanging  ledge  of  rock.  We  tried  to  fathom  it,  but  the 
bottom  was  beyond  the  reach  of  the  longest  pole  we  could  find.  Rocks  cast  into  it  increase  the 
agitation  of  its  waters.  There  were  several  other  springs  in  the  group,  smaller  in  size,  but  presenting 
the  same  characteristics. 

"  The  approach  to  them  was  unsafe,  the  incrustation  surrounding  them  bending  in  many  places 
beneath  our  weight, — and  from  the  fractures  thus  created  would  ooze  a  sulphury  slime  of  the  con- 
sistency of  mucilage.  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  we  obtained  specimens  from  the  natural 
apertures  with  which  the  crust  is  filled, — a  feat  which  was  accomplished  by  one  only  of  our  party, 
who  extended  himself  at  full  length  upon  that  portion  of  the  incrustation  which  yielded  the  least,  but 
which  was  not  sufficiently  strong  to  bear  his  weight  while  in  an  upright  position, -and  at  imminent 
risk  of  sinking  into  the  infernal  mixture,  rolled  over  and  over  to  the  edge  of  the  opening,  .and  with 
"the  crest  slowly  bending  and  sinking  beneath  him,  hurriedly  secured  the  coveted  prize." 

Between  the  Upper  and  the  Lower  Falls  and  Yellowstone  Lake,  which  is  the  central  gem  of  that 
wonderful  collection  of  long-hidden  treasures,  lies  a  marvelous  region,  filled  with  boiling  springs  and 
craters,  with  two  hills,  three  hundred  feet  high,  formed  wholly  of  the  sinter  thrown  from  the  adjacent 
springs  ;  and  at  the  base  of  one  of  them  is  a  cavern  whose  mouth  is  seven  feet  in  diameter,  from 
whence  a  dense  jet  of  sulphurous  vapor  explodes  with  a  regular  report  like  a  high-pressure  engine. 
A  few  yards  off  is  a  boiling  spring,  seventy  feet  long  by  forty  wide,  the  water  of  which  is  in  unceas- 
ing agitation  ;  and  in  another  direction  is  a  boiling  alum  spring,  surrounded  with  beautiful  crystals. 
No  wonder  that  the  first  beholders  of  these  things  called  the  various  points  by  names  of  infernal 
significance.  There  are  now  no  true  geysers  in  this  group,  but  in  ancient  times  there  were  very 
powerful  ones.  The  steam-vents  on  the  side,  and  at  the  foot  of  these  hills,  represent  the  dying 
stages  of  this  once  most  active  group. 

But  the  real  geyser  region  is  just  over  the  margin  of  the  Yellowstone  Basin,  on  the  Firehole 
River.  The  valley  in  which  these  wonderful  phenomena  are  located  is  about  twelve  miles  in  length, 


Hot  Spring   Cone. 


58       HOT  SPRINGS  AND   GEYSERS   OF    THE     YELLOWSTONE. 


with  an  average  width  of  three  miles.     It  is  said  that  there  are  more  of  these  natural  wonders  in  this 
small  area  than  can  be  found  in  the  rest  of  the  world. 

The  Firehole  River  flows  from  Madison  Lake,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  many  lovely 
sheets  of  water  in  the  mountains,  and  the  volume  of  its  waters  is  increased  by  the  constant  acces- 
sion of  mountain  torrents,  until  just  before  reaching  the  geyser-basin,  it  falls  over  two  cliffs,  one 
twenty,  and  the  other  fifty  feet  in  height.  "  These  pretty  falls,  if  located  in  an  Eastern  stream, 
would  be  celebrated  in  history  and  song ;  here  amid  objects  so  grand  as  to  stagger  belief,  they  were 
passed  without  a  halt." 

Everybody  knows  that  a  geyser  is  an  eruption  of  water  from  the  earth  to  a  considerable  height 
in  the  air  ;  but  the  power  to  which  we  owe  these  extraordinary  manifestations  of  nature,  its  means 
of  action  and  the  causes  of  its  intermittent  action,  are  not  so  generally  understood.  For  a  lucid 
explanation  of  these  phenomena  we  cannot  do  better  than  refer  to  the  disquisition  of  the  learned 
scientist,  Prof.  Tyndall,  on  this  subject.  The  particular  geyser  whose  mechanism  and  development 
he  investigated,  is  the  Great  Geyser  of  Iceland  ;  but  the  principle  of  the  geysers  of  the  Firehole 
Basin,  and  of  those  that  have  recently  been  discovered  in  the  celebrated  Lake  District  of  New 
Zealand,  and  of  all  similar  springs,  is  the  same. 

"  It  consists  of  a  tube  seventy-four  feet  deep  and  ten  feet  in  diameter.  The  tube  is  surmounted 
by  a  basin  which  measures  from  north  to  south  fifty-two  feet  across,  and  from  east  to  west  sixty 
feet.  The  interior  of  the  tube  and  basin  is  coated  with  a  beautiful  smooth  silicious  plaster,  so  hard 

as  to  resist  the  blows  of  a  hammer ;  and  the  first  question  is, 
how  was  this  wonderful  tube  constructed — how  was  this  perfect 
plaster  laid  on  ?  Chemical  analysis  shows  that  the  water  holds 
silica  in  solution,  and  the  conjecture  might  therefore  arise  that 
the  water  had  deposited  the  silica  against  the  sides  of  the  tube  • 
and  basin.  But  this  is  not  the  case  :  the  water  deposits  no  sedi- 
ment ;  no  matter  how  long  it  may  be  kept,  no  solid  substance  is 
separated  from  it.  It  may  be  bottled  up  and  preserved  for  years 
as  crystal,  without  showing  the  slightest  tendency  to  form  a  pre- 
cipitate. To  answer  the  question  in  this  way  would  moreover 
assume  that  the  shaft  was  formed  by  same  foreign  agency,  and 
that  the  water  merely  lined  it.  The  geyser  basin,  however,  rests 
upon  a  summit  of  a  mound  about  forty  feet  high,  and  it  is  evident 
from  mere  inspection  that  the  mound  has  been  deposited  by  the 
geyser.  But  in  building  up  this  mound  the  spring  must  have 
formed  the  tube  which  perforates  the  mound,  and  hence  the  con- 
clusion tnat  the  geyser  is  the  architect  of  its  own  tube. 

"  If  we  place  a  quantity  of  geyser  water  in  an  evaporating 
basin  the  following  takes  place  :  in  the  centre  of  the  basin  the 
liquid  deposits  nothing,  but  .at  the  sides  where  it  is  drawn  up 
by  capillary  attraction,  and  thus  subjected  to  speedy  evaporation, 
we  find   silica  deposited.      Round  the  edge  a  ring  of  silica  is 
laid  on,  and  not  until  the  evaporation  has  continued  a  consider- 
able time  do  we  find  the  slightest  turbidity  in 
the  middle  of  the  water.     This  experiment  is 
the  microscopic  representative  of   what  oc- 
curs in  Iceland.     Imagine  the  case  of  a  sim- 
ple   thermal    silicious    spring,    whose    waters 
trickle  down  a  gentle  inclosure  ;  the  water 
thus  exposed  evaporates  speedily,  and  silica 
is  deposited.    This  deposit  gradually  elevates 
the  side  over  which  the  water  passes  until 
finally  the  latter  has  to  take  another  course. 
The  same  takes    place  here,  the  ground  is 
elevated  as  before,  and  the  spring  has  to  move 
forward.    Thus  it  is  compelled  to  travel  round 
Giant  Geyser.  and  round,  discharging  its  silica,  and   deep- 


HOT  SPRINGS  AND    GEYSERS  QF    THE    YELLOWSTONE. 


59 


ening  the  shaft  in  which  it  dwells,  until  finally,  in  the  course  of  ages,  the  simple  spring  has  pro- 
duced this  wonderful  apparatus  which  has  so  long  puzzled  and  astonished  both  the  traveler  and  the 
philosopher." 

The  boiling  springs,  all  in  active  eruption,  with  craters  from  three  to  forty  feet  high,  are  scattered 
along  both  banks  of  the  Firehole  River  ;  and  as  the  expedition  hurried  along,  anxious  to  reach  the 
settlements,  of  Madison  Valley,  they  came  in  sight  of  an  immense  volume  of  clear,  sparkling  water, 
projected  into  the  air  to  the  height  of  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet.  "  Geysers,  geysers  !  "  they 
shouted  in  concert  ;  and  so  they  were,  this  one  standing  as  a  sentinel  at  the  mouth  of  the  marvel- 
filled  valley.  It  spouted  at  regular  intervals  nine  times  during  the  explorers'  stay,  the  columns  of 
boiling  water  being  thrown  from  ninety  to  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  at  each  discharge,  which 
lasted  from  fifteen  to  twenty  minutes.  By  a  succession  of  impulses,  it  seemed  to  hold  the  column 
up  steadily  in  the  air  for  the  regular  space,  the  great  mass  falling  directly  back  into  the  basin,  and 
flowing  over  the  edges  and  down  the  sides  in  large  streams.  When  the  action  ceases,  the  water 
recedes  beyond  sight,  and  nothing  is  heard  but  the  occasional  escape  of  steam  until  another  exhibi- 
tion occurs.  The  description  of  one  of  the  geysers,  of  which  there  are  hundreds,  suffices  for  all,  as 
to  general  features,  but  the  difference  in  their  dimensions  is  considerable,  and  the  mounds  and  pro- 
jecting rims  are  of  various,  though  always  extraordinary  beauty.  "  The  great  beauty  of  the  pris- 
matic colors,"  writes  Dr.  Hayden,  "  depends  much  on  the  sunlight ;  about  the  middle  of  the  day, 


Castle  Geyser  and   Fire  Basin. 

when  the  bright  rays  descend  nearly  vertically,  and  a  slight  breeze  just  makes  a  ripple  on  the^sur- 
face,  the  colors  exceed  comparison  ;  when  the  surface  is  calm  there  is  one  vast  chaos  of  colors, 
dancing,  as  it  were,  like  the  colors  of  a  kaleidoscope.  As  seen  through  this  marvelous  play  of  colors, 
the  decorations  on  the  sides  of  the  basin  are  lighted  up  with  a  wild,  weird  beauty,  which  wafts  one 
at  once  into  the  land  of  enchantment  ;  all  the  brilliant  feats  of  fairies  and  genii  in  the  Arabian 
Nights'  Entertainments  are  forgotten  in  the  actual  presence  of  such  marvelous  beauty  ;  life  becomes 
a  privilege  and  a  blessing  after  one  has  seen  and  thoroughly  felt  its  cunning  skill." 

Of  one,  which  they  called  the  Castle  Geyser,  Dr.  Hayden  writes  :  "  It  is  the  most  imposing  forma- 
tion in  the  valley,  and  receives  its  name  from  its  resemblance  to  the  ruins  of  an  old  fortress.  The 
deposited  silica  has  crystallized  in  immense  globular  masses,  like  cauliflowers,  or  spongiform  corals, 
apparently  formed  about  a  nucleus  at  right  angles  to  the  centre.  The  mound  is  forty,  and  the  chim- 
ney twenty  feet  high,  and  the  lower  portion  rises  in  steps  formed  of  thin  laminae  of  silica,  an  inch  or 
two  thick.  The  base  of  the  crater  is  three  hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  in  circumference,  and  the 
turret  is  one  hundred  and  twenty-five.  At  the  base  of  the  turret  lies  a  large  petrified  pine-log,  cov- 
ered with  a  brilliant  incrustation  several  inches  thick." 

The  Grand  Geyser  is  the  finest  object  of  the  k,ind  yet  discovered  in  the  world  ;  and  the  variety 
of  these  wonderful  things  is  astonishing.  Their  number  is  not  less  than  fifteen  hundred,  but  scarcely 
any  two  are  alike.  The  explorers'  suspicion  that  many  quiet-looking  springs  were  slumbering  gey- 
sers, was  justified  by  a  magnificent  surprise.  Their  camp  was  roused  in  the  early  morning  by  a  fear- 


60      HOT  SPRINGS  AND    GEYSERS   OF    THE    YELLOWSTONE. 


The  Grotto. 

ful  hissing  sound,  and  the  rush  of  falling  water ;  and,  on  looking  out,  they  saw  a  small  crater,  three 
feet  in  height,  with  an  opening  twenty-six  inches  in  diameter,  which  had  hardly  excited  any  notice, 
playing  a  perpendicular  jet  to  the  height  of  two  hundred  and  nineteen  feet,  amid  great  clouds  of 
steam,  and  causing  the  ground  to  tremble  as  the  heavy  body  of  water  fell  with  tremendous  splashes 
upon  the  shelly  strata  below.  Huge  masses  of  rock  were  torn  from  their  places,  and  borne  away  into 
the  river-channel.  It  played  steadily  for  ten  minutes. 

The  "  Giant  Geyser,"  writes  Lieutenant  Doane,  "  played  several  times  while  we  were  in  the 
valley,  on  one  occasion  throwing  constantly  for  over  three  hours  a  stream  of  water  seven  feet  in 
diameter,  from  ninety  to  two  hundred  feet  perpendicularly,  while  it  doubled  the  size  of  the  Firehole 
River." 

Near  the  Giant  is  the  Grotto,  so"  named  from  its  curious  formation.  This  geyser  plays  a  volume 
of  water  six  feet  in  diameter  to  a  height  of  sixty  feet.  The  excitement  and  pleasure  of  exploring 
such  scenes  as  those  presented  by  the  Upper  and  Lower  Geyser  Basins  of  the  Firehole  River  can- 
not be  exaggerated  in  imagination.  Every  moment  brought  some  fresh  wonder  to  light,  every  hour 
chronicled  a  surprise,  frequently  mingled  with  awe.  The  mighty  ranges  of  mountains,  the  tremen- 
dous ravines,  the  awful  evidences  of  the  rule  of  the  Fire  King  (his  power  slumbering  now,  indeed, 


THE  EAST  RIVER.  61 

but  still  asserted  in  the  geysers  and  the  mud  volcanoes,  and  the  impress  of  this  terrible  pa  wage,  iiv 
the  dead  ages,  on  the  face  of  nature  everywhere  around)  ;  the  beautiful  rivers,  the  far-spreading 
forests,  with  their  noble  denizens — elk,  buffalo,  and  deer ;  the  pine-crowned  promontories,  and  the 
fair  table-lands,  which  unite  to  form  the  exquisite  picture  of  this  remote  region,  six  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea-level,  and  dating  from  the  Pliocene  age,  is  but  the  setting  of  the  gem  which  sparkles 
on  the  summit  of  it  all — the  peerless  Yellowstone  Lake,  the  "  Crown  of  the  Continent."  Of  this 
lovely  sheet  of  water  we  gave  a  full  description,  with  an  illustration,  in  a  preceding  part  of  this  volume. 


THE    EAST    RIVER. 

THE  East  River  is  really  a  part  of  Long  Island  Sound,  whose  water  it  unites  with  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  through  New  York  Bay.  Until  quite  recently  it  was  along  its  banks  that  the  maritime 
business  of  New  York  was  concentrated.  With  the  constant  increase  in  the  commerce  of  the  city 
the  occupation  of  the  wharves  on  the  North  River  became  necessary,  but  a  large  proportion  of 
the  ocean  traffic  and  the  bulk  of  the  coasting  trade  are  still  conducted  on  the  Eastern  side.  Leav- 
ing "The  Battery"  on  the  left,  and  sailing  up  the  river,  an  interesting  panorama  is  spread  before 
the  eye.  As  far  as  one  can  follow  the  windings  of  the  river  it  is  instinct  with  life  and  action.  Vessels 
of  all  kinds,  flying  the  flags  of  all  nations,  form  n  spectacle  which  is  really  bewildering.  On  the 
wharves  are  piled  up  great  quantities  of  merchandise  for  export  or  for  transport  to  the  interior,  and 
hundreds  of  men  and  vehicles  move  busily  about. 

Conspicuous  are  the  great -packet-ships  which  sail  between  New  York  and  European  ports. 
These  lie  generally  at  the  wharves  of  ancient  New.  York,  below  Wall  Street,  which  was  at  one 
time  the  boundary  line  of  the  city,  whence  it  derived  its  name.  Further  up  the  river  numerous 
ferry-boats  may  be  seen  plying  between  New  York  and  Brooklyn.  At  the  present  time  there  are 
nearly  a  dozen  ferries  to  Brooklyn  and  vicinage,  all  well  supplied  with  good  and  fast  steamboats 
that  have  an  average  burden  of  four  hundred  tons.  So  great  is  the  travel  over  these  vessels  that 
at  certain  hours  of  the  clay  they  carry  nearly  a  thousand  passengers  each  on  a  single  trip,  besides 
horses  and  vehicles. 

We  have,  in  a  preceding  part  of  this  work,  described  the  Brooklyn  Bridge,  the  most  conspicuous 
object  on  the  river.  At  the  foot  of  Tenth  Street  is  the  great  Dry  Dock,  which  is  said  to  be  the 
largest  of  its  kind  in  the  world.  Ten  years  of  labor  and  eighty  thousand  tons  of  stone  were  devoted 
to  its  construction,  and  so  perfect  is  its  mode  of  operation,  and  so  great  are  its  power  and  capacity, 
that  the  largest  vessel  may  be  lifted  out  of  water  and  secured  for  repairs  in  less  than  five  hours. 

The' ferry  to  Blackwell's  Island  is  at  the  foot  of  Sixty-first  Street,  which  is  a  narrow  strip  of  land 
about  a  mile  long,  and  is  the  most  southerly  of  the  group  of  islands  that  have  so  long  been  the  sites 
of  various  important  charitable  and  reform  institutions  belonging  to  New  York.  Blackwell's  Island 
contains  the  Workhouse,  the  Lunatic  Asylum,  and  the  Almshouse.  Drunkenness  and  petty  offences 
of  all  kinds  are  the  principal  qualifications  for  a  residence  in  the  first-named  institution.  It  is  the 
newest  of  the  buildings,  but  certainly  the  busiest.  Previous  to  its  erection,  the  class  of  prisoners 
that  now  fill  it  were  distributed  among  the  District  Prisons,  the  Penitentiary,  the  Tombs,  and  the 
Almshouse.  The  northern  wing  contains  the  female  wards,  and  the  southern  wing  the  male.  There 
are  three  stories  to  the  main  edifice,  and  the  cross-buildings  at  the  end  of  each  wing  have  four 
stories  and  a  loft.  In  these  end-buildings  are  the  work-rooms,  the  reception-rooms,  and  the  officers'- 
rooms.  The  main  building  contains  the  apartments  of  the  warden  and  physicians,  the  kitchen,  the 
laundries,  and  the  church  auditory.  The  structure  is  of  blue  stone.  There  are  also  several  out- 
houses, in  which  are  the  shops,  the  stable,  and  the  boat-house  for  the  Warden's  and  the  Resident 
Physician's  crew.  The  work-house  was  originally  intended  to  be  a  kind  of  House  of  Industry,  and 
during  the  first  two  years  of  its  existence  its  occupants  were  paid  for  their  labor  ;  this  was,  however,, 
soon  abolished,  and  it  became  a  penal  institution.  The  majority  of  the  prisoners  on  the  Island  are 
sent  there  for  drunkenness,  vagrancy,  and  assault,  and  come  mostly  from  the  slums  of  New  York. 

In  the  Lunatic  Asylum  the  patients  are  mainly  from  the  poorer  classes,  and  are  principally 
women.  Mania  afflicts  more  than  four-fifths  of  them,  the  disease  of  the  remaining  fifth  being  de- 
mentia, general  paralysis  or  idiocy.  Mania  includes  the  violent  forms  of  mental  disease  as  well  as 


Q 
Z 


tn 

Q 
(E 


Z 

0 

« 

0 

z 

Q 
J 

D 
03 

h 
Z 

w 
2 
Z 

cc 
u 

> 

0 
0 


THE    EAST  RIVER.  63 

confirmed  delusions.  The  building  has  no  rooms  stronger  than  the  usual  sleeping  apartments  of  a 
hotel,  and  the  only  attempt  at  security  is  in  the  cast-iron  sashes  of  the  windows  ;  and  these  may  be 
easily  broken.  The  building  is  well-adapted  for  the  more  harmless  forms  of  insanity,  but  is  too 
insecure  for  cases  where  there  are  dangerous  propensities  ;  while  to  convicts  who  feign  mental 
derangement  in  the  hope  of  escape,  the  greatest  facilities  to  that  end  are  afforded. 

No  description  of  the  East  River  would  be  complete  without  giving  some  account  of  the 
endeavors  that  have  for  some  years  been  made  for  the  removal  of  the  dangerous  rocks  at  the  point 
known  as  Hell  Gate,  situated  just  above  Blackwell's  Island.  Ever  since  the  first  settlement  of 
New  York,  the  existence  of  these  rocks  has  been  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  those  interested  in 
maritime  pursuits,  and  has  absolutely  precluded  the  use  of  the  shorter  route  by  the  Sound  to  large 
sea-going  vessels.  Although  the  direct  saving  in  distance  is  but  fifty  miles,  practically,  allowance 
being  made  for  the  time  usually  lost  by  vessels  of  large  burden  beating  about  at  Sandy  Hook, 
waiting  for  high  water  to  cross  the  bar,  their  removal  would  shorten  the  time  consumed  on  a 
transatlantic  voyage  at  least  one  day. 

At  Hell  Gate  a  number  of  islands  of  rocks  lie  in  the  middle  of  the  stream,  which  is  here  un- 
usually strong  and  violent.  This  disturbance  of  the  waters  is  caused  by  the  difference  of  elevation  be- 
tween the  two  tidal  waves  whose  waters  here  come  together — one  entering  from  the  Sound,  the  other 
by  way  of  Sandy  Hook.  These  two  waves  meet  and  battle  for  victory  within  a  space  of  less  than 
four  thousand  feet.  The  eddies  and  miniature  whirlpools  which  prevail  at  this  point  are  the  con- 
sequence of  this  tidal  disturbance. 

The  following  eloquent  description  by  Irving  gives  some  idea  of  the  violence  of  the  current  owing 
to  its  forcible  compression  between  shouldering  rocks  and  promontories  :  "  Being  at,  the  best  of 
times  a  very  violent  and  impetuous  current,  it  takes  these  impediments  in  mighty  dudgeon  ;  boiling 
in  whirlpools  ;  brawling  and  fretting  in  ripples  ;  raging  and  roaring  in  rapids  and  breakers  ;  and,  in 
short,  indulging  in  all  kinds  of  wrong-headed  paroxysms.  At  such  times,  woe  to  any  unlucky  vessel 
that  ventures  within  its  clutches.  This  termagant  humor,  however,  prevails  only  at  certain  times  of 
tide.  At  low  water,  for  instance,  it  is  as  pacific  a  stream  as  you  would  wish  to  see.  But  as  the  tide 
rises  it  begins  to.  fret ;  at  half-tide  it  roars  with  might  and  main,  like  a  bull  bellowing  for  more  drink  ; 
but  when  the  tide  is 'full,  it  relapses  into  quiet,  and  for  a  time  sleeps  as  soundly  as  an  alderman  after 
dinner.  In  fact,  it  may  be  compared  to  a  quarrelsome  toper,  who  is  a  peaceable  fellow  enough 
when  he  has  no  liquor  at  all,  or  when  he  has  a  skinful,  but  who,  when  half-seas  over,  plays  the 
very  devil."  The  difficulty  of  making  a  safe  passage  of  this  point  was  so  great  that  before  any 
attempt  was  made  to  improve  the  channel,  a  thousand  vessels  a  year  were  either  lost  or  seriously 
damaged  by  running  against  the  rocks.  "  To  steer  a  vessel  through  these  intricate  passages,  through 
which  the  water  runs  with  such  speed,  breaks  noisily  even  in  the  calmest  times  upon  the  rocky 
shores  and  islands,  and  whirls  in  a  thousand  dizzying  eddies,  requires,"  says  the  Government  surveyor, 
"  a  cool  head  and  a  steady  hand,  even  with  the  superior  help  of  steam.  But  in  a  sailing-vessel  the 
greatest  skill  and  self-possession,  without  a  commanding  wind,  prove  insufficient  to  guard  against 
certain  danger." 

Operations  against  Hell  Gate  were  not  begun  before  1851.  The  first  engineer  who  undertook 
the  gigantic  task  of  clearing  the  rocks  was  a  M.  Maillefert,  a  Frenchman.  This  gentleman  had  been 
successful  in  removing  the  obstruction  in  the  harbor  of  Nassau  and  elsewhere.  It  was  found,  how- 
ever, that  his  plan  of  operation,  which  consisted  of  exploding  charges  of  gunpowder  against  the  rock, 
was  only  partially  successful  in  removing  masses  of  projecting  rock,  and  was  totally  inadequate  to 
displace  reefs  of  solid  bed-rock.  In  brief,  M.  Maillefert's  plan  was  only  effective  when  used  against 
small  bodies  of  isolated  rock.  Nevertheless  a  considerable  improvement  in  the  channel  resulted 
from  his  labors. 

The  civil  war  caused  a  suspension  of  all  operations  against  Hell  Gate;  but  in  1866  General 
Newton  was  assigned  by  the  War  Department  to  make  a  report  as  to  the  best  means  of  removing 
the  obstructions.  He  recommended  the  direction  of  all  energies  toward  the  main,  channel. 
Advertisements  containing  specifications  of  the  work  to  be  accomplished  were  issued,  but.  so 
little  was  its  nature  understood  that  bids  were  received  varying  in  amount  from  $38,000  to  $500,000. 
The  contract  was  awarded  to  the  lowest  bidder.  This  gentleman,  Mr.  Sidney  F.  Shelbourne, 
who  proposed  to  work  by  drilling  and  exploding  the  rocks,  did  little  more  than  make  various 
experiments  and  demonstrate,  at  the  cost  to  himself  of  twenty  thousand  dollars,  the  impossibility 
of  certain  modes  of  operation,  before  the  time  specified  in  his  contract  expired,  and  the  contract 
was  withdrawn. 


OPENING    OF    THE    SHAFT     BENEATH     HELL.    GATE. 


THE    YOSEMITE    VALLEY.  65 

Some  idea  of  the  nature  of  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  can  be  formed  from  the  report  of  Gen. 
Newton,  dated  December  ig,  1868:  "The  removal  of  rocks  in  Hell  Gate  is  attended  with  peculiar 
difficulty.  The  current  is  extremely  rapid,  so  that  divers  could  not  be  sent  down,  in  most  places,  to 
regulate  and  set  the  drills,  except  at  slack  water.  This  fact  requires  that  the  drill  should  act  inde- 
pendently of  manual  assistance,  and  therefore  peculiar  and  ingenious  devices  are  required.  But  the 
more  formidable  evil  is  the  chance,  unavoidable  in  the  long  run,  of  being  collided  with,  from  the 
number  of  vessels,  daily  increasing,  which  frequent  this  narrow  pass."  This  latter  consideration 
finally  convinced  Gen.  Newton,  that  the  only  way  to  proceed  was  to  sink  a  shaft  from  the  shore,  and 
to  blow  up  the  roof  and  its  supporting  columns  by  one  grand  explosion,  and  afterwards  to  remove 
the  debris  by  grappling,  or  as  might  be  otherwise  determined.  This  plan  was  adopted  with  com- 
plete success,  and  the  final  result  depends  only  upon  the  action  of  Congress  in  making  the  requisite 
appropriations. 

Nitro-glycerine  has  been  largely  used  in  removing  isolated  rocks  ;  but  as  a  description  of  the 
various  processes  used  in  this  great  undertaking  would  absorb  much  more  space  than  we  have  at 
command,  we  are  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with  giving  a  brief  and  incomplete  sketch  of  this 
interesting  work. 


THE   YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 

WORDS  fail  utterly  to  give  any  idea  of  this  extraordinary  valley.  To  paint  its  wonderful  forma- 
tion would  tax  the  imagery  of  a  Voltaire.  In  its  wildest  and  most  fanciful  explorations  into  the 
realms  of  dreamland  that  fantastic  imagination  fell  utterly  below  the  conception  of  the  physical  marvels 
that  here  abound.  In  one  of  his  Romans  Voltaire  did,  indeed,  foreshadow  the  existence  of  a  canon 
on  a  scale  then  unknown  to  mankind.  His  hero,  being,  by  an  adverse  combination  of  circumstances, 
encompassed  by  danger  on  every  side,  and  not  knowing  whither  to  sojourn,  embarked  in  a  canoe 
and  left  his  course  to  the  guidance  of  the  broad  river's  current.  The  river-banks,  arid  in  one 
place  and  in  another  covered  with  flowers,  by-and-by  closed  toward  each  other,  and  rose  perpen- 
dicularly toward  Heaven,  so  that  it  was  dark  as  night  on  the  surface  of  the  water.  Still  carried  on- 
ward by  the  current,  which  now  raged  and  roared  against  the  rocks  and  swept  by  them  with  awful 
swiftness,  he  was  finally,  after  passing  through  inconceivable  perils,  wrecked  in  El  Dorado, — the 
phantom  kingdom  of  the  gold-loving  Spaniards.  Here  his  description  panders  to  the  avarice  of 
civilized  man,  and  fails  utterly  to  cope  with,  or  to  give  even  a  glimpse  of,  Nature's  sublime  crea- 
tions. Imagination  could  not  conceive  of  such  stupendous  mountains  of  solid  stone  as  those  which 
rise  perpendicularly  from  the  Valley  of  the  Yosemite  to  the  height  of  five  thousand  feet — of  a  cataract 
having  a  clear  fall  of  sixteen  hundred,  and  a  total  fall  of  over  two  thousand  six  hundred  feet — or 
of  a  magical  lake  which  reproduces  the  surrounding  panorama  on  its  bosom  with  such  distinctness 
that  the  reflection  can  be  copied  by  an  art  requiring  such  sharpness  of  outline  as  photography. 

The  gorge  in  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  known  as  the  Valley  of  the  Yosemite,  is  about  fifty  miles 
from  the  town  of  Coulterville,  Mariposa  county,  California.  It  is  from  eight  to  ten  miles  long,  about 
two  miles  wide,  and  is  enclosed  by  walls  of  solid  granite,  varying  in  precipitous  height  from  two 
to  five  thousand  feet.  They  are  not  uniform  in  appearance,  in  some  places  being  rounded  or 
dome-like  at  the  top,  while  in  others  they  run  up  into  sharp  peaks,  or  assume  fantastic  forms  like  the 
ruins  of  gigantic  castles.  At  the  eastern  end,  the  valley  terminates  in  three  canons,  through  each 
of  which  passes  a  branch  of  the  Merced  river  (a  stream  that  rises  near  by  and  runs  through  the 
valley).  On  account  of  the  great  depression  of  the  valley,  the  streams  from  the  surrounding  moun- 
tains find  their  way  into  it,  and  form  marvelous  cataracts  as  they  dash  down  its  perpendicular  sides. 
In  the  spring,  when  the  snow  on  the  mountain  sides  melts,  these  streams  are  almost  innumerable  ; 
and  even  during  the  dry  season  there  is  an  abundant  supply  of  water  in  the  valley,  keeping  its  vege- 
tation fresh  and  green,  in  marked  contrast  with  the  barrenness  of  the  surrounding  country. 

It  is  singular,  remembering  for  what  a  length  of  time  California  has  been  occupied  by  the 
Spaniards,  that  the  existence  of  this  valley  should  have  remained  so  long  unknown.  It  was  discov- 
ered in  1851  by  an  expedition  organized  by  the  miners  to  punish  a  party  of  depredatory  Indians,  who 
used  the  valley  as  a  place  of  safe  retreat.  Unhappily  for  them,  the  pursuit  being  conducted  with 


66  THE    YOSEMITE    VALLEY. 

energy  and  boldness,  their  trail  showed  the  way  into  their  fastness,  and,  a  battle  ensuing,  they  were 
nearly  exterminated.  But  it  was  not  until  1856,  that  travel  commenced  to  flow  hitherward.  Not- 
withstanding the  fact  that  the  State  of  California,  to  which  the  Valley  belongs,  refuses  to  grant  a 
lease  for  a  longer  term  than  ten  years,  a  number  of  hotels,  capable  of  containing  from  three  hundred 
to  three  hundred  and  fifty  guests,  have  sprung  up.  Mr.  Nordhoff  in  his  recent  work  on  this  subject 
strongly  advocates  the  grant  of  the  Valley  to  a  corporation,  to  be  organized  with  a  large  capital,  for 
a  term  of  years.  In  this  manner  the  much-to-be-desired  improvements  could  be  effected,  and  all 
acts  of  vandalism  prevented.  Already  bridges  have  been  erected  across  the  Merced  River,  and 
exorbitant  tolls  are  exacted.  As  the  tide  of  travel  in  the  direction  of  this  wonderful  and  unique 
locality  increases,  so  will  the  vexations,  restraints,  and  annoying  charges,  which  are  so  universal  at 
all  places  of  great  resort,  be  multiplied. 

To  give  even  a  brief  account  of  the  various  interesting  sights,  would  be  manifestly  impossible  in 
an  article  of  this  description.  We  therefore  subjoin  a  table  of  the  principal  physical  phenomena.  For 
purposes  of  comparison  let  the  reader  remember  that  the  Palisades  of  the  Hudson  River  are  but 
six  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  that  the  Falls  of  Niagara  have  a  descent  of  only  one  hundred  and 
sixty-three  feet. 

MOUNTAINS. 

INDIAN  NAME.  SIGNIFICATION.  AMERICAN  NAME.  HEIGHT 

Tu-tock-a-mu-la  ......................  Great  Chief  of  the  Valley  .................  El  Capitan  ..................  3,300  feet 

Poo-see-nah  Chuk-ka   ............  .....  Large  Acorn  Cache  ......................  Cathedral  Rocks  ............  2,660  feet 

____  t  ........................................................................  The  Cathedral  Spires  ........  1,800  feet 

Pom-pom-pasus  ........................  Mountains  Playing  Leap  Frog  ............  Three  Brothers  .............  3.830  feet 

Hep-se-tuck-a-nah  .....................  Gone  in  .................................  Union  Rocks  ...............  3,5oo  feet 

Loya  ..................................  Signal  Station  ...........................  Sentinel  Rock  ...............  3,043  feet 

Loya  ..................................  Signal  Station  ...........................  Sentinel  Dome  ..............  4,5oo  feet 

Ummo  ................................  Lost  Arrow  .......................................................  3.o°°  feet 

Patillima  ......................  .-  ...............................................  Glacier  Rock  ................  3.200  feet 

To-coy-se  ..............................  Shade  to  Indian  Baby  Basket  .............  Royal  Arches  ................  1,800  feet 

Hunto  ................................  The  Watching  Eye  .......................  Washington  Column  .........  1,875  feet 

...........................................................................  .North  Dome  ................  3,568  feet 

Tissa-ack  .............................  Goddess  of  the  Valley  ....................  South  Dome  ................  4,737  feet 

Wayan  ................................  Pine  Mountain  ..........................  Mount  Watkins  .............  3,900  feet 

......................................  Cloud's  Rest  .......................................................  6,034  feet 

.............  ...........  ____         ......  Cap  of  Liberty  .......................................................  4,000  feet 

....................................  Mount  Star  King  ....................................................  5.6°°  feet 

i 

WATERFALLS. 
...............................  .............................................  Cataract  ....................    900  feet 

Po-ho-no.  .  ............................  Night  Wind  ...................  ..  .........  Bridal  Veil  ..................    630  feet 

Yo-Semite  _____  .......................  Large  Grizzly  Bear.  .  .....................  Yosemite  ....................  2,634  feet 

.....................................  First  Fall  ...........  ................................................  1,600  feet 

.....................................  Second  Fall  .........................................................    600  feet 

......................................  Third  Fall  .........................  .................................    434  feet 

Py-wy-ack  .............................  Sparkling  Water  .........................  Vernal  ......................    350  feet 

Yowy-ye  ...................................................................  Nevada  .....................    700  feet 

Illilouette  .............................  The  Beautiful  ...........  ...............  South  Fork   ................    600  feet 

Yocoy-a:  ..............................  Shade  to  Indian  Baby  Basket  .............  Royal  Arch  Falls  ............  1,000  feet 

Sentinel  Falls  ...............  3,000  feet 


One  of  the  principal  objects'  of  interest,  and  one  of  the  loveliest  waterfalls  in  the  world,  is  Bridal 
Veil  Fall,  formed  by  a  stream  which  enters  the  Valley  from  the  south.  It  falls  from  a  height  of  630 
feet  in  a  clear  symmetrical  arch  of  indescribable  beauty  ;  but,  in  summer,  the  creek  of  which  it  is  a 
part  is  no  larger  than  a  common  mill-stream.  The  foot  of  the  waterfall  is  very  difficult  of  access, 
owing  to  the  almost  impenetrable  jungle  which  surrounds  it.  To  reach  it,  it  is  necessary  to  scale 
huge  masses  of  granite  piled  up  in  irregular  order.  During  a  certain  part  of  the  dry  season,  how- 
ever, these  difficulties  may  be  avoided,  the  water  being  then  so  low  that  visitors  can  walk  up  the 
bed  of  the  stream. 

About  a  mile  above  the  Bridal  Veil  Fall  is  the  principal  section  of  the  northern  wall  called  El 
Capitan.  This  stupendous  mass  of  granite  rises  from  the  valley  to  a  height  of  3,300  feet.  Although 
the  precipices  on  each  side  are  ragged  and  dingy,  El  Capitan  is  as  bright  and  smooth  as  though  it 
had  been  recently  polished.  It  is  nearly  two  miles  broad.  In  a  niche  half  way  up  its  side 


w 
h 

M 

S 

w 
to 
0 


u 
X 
h 


J 

J 


68  THE     YOSEMITE    J'.ILLEY. 

there  grows  a  solitary  pine-tree.  Although  there  arc  no  indications  of  any  soil  near  it,  nor  any 
visible  means  by  which  soil  could  have  been  deposited  in  such  a  place,  the  tree  seems  hardy  and 
thriving.  A  short  distance  up  the  Valley  are  the  Cathedral  Rocks.  These  consist  of  two  columns 
or  spires  about  2,660  feet  high,  which  have  a  gable-shaped  rock  between  them.  The  cluster  has 
a  strong  resemblance  to  the  facade  of  a  cathedral,  and  from  this  fact  is  their  name  derived.  We 
next  come  to  the  Sentinel,  a  remarkable  projection  in  the  southern  wall,  nearly  perpendicular,  and 
terminating  in  sharp  peaks  far  above  the  general  line  of  the  wall,  and  4,500  feet  above  the  bed  of  the 
valley.  Nearly  opposite  are  three  peaks  known  as  the  Three  Brothers,  leaning  over  towards  the 
Valley.  The  highest  of  the  group  is  3,830  feet  above  the  river. 

On  the  northern  side  of  the  Valley,  and  at  a  little  distance  from  the  Three  Brothers,  is  the  great 
Ydsemite  Fall,  formed  by  a  stream  of  the  same  name.  The  river  reaches  the  valley  in  three  leaps, 
the  wall  at  this  point  forming  three  courses,  and  leaving  a  shelf  or  plateau  at  the  bottom  of  each  to 
receive  the  falling  water.  The  upper  course  is  the  highest,  affording  the  stream  an  unobstructed 
fall  of  1, 600  feet.  It  then  rushes  along  until  it  takes  a  second  leap  of  234  feet,  and  after  that  another 
of  400  feet.  The  height  from  the  top  of  the  fall  to  the  level  of  the  valley  is  2,634  feet.  The  upper 
fall  is  considered  the  highest  in  the  world.  Unlike  the  other  cataracts  in  the  valley  the  hot  season 
does  not  so  diminish  the  volume  of  the  Yosemite  Fall  but  that  at  all  times  of  the  year  a  well-defined 
sheet  of  water  pours  over  it  to  the  bottom.  When  the  Valley  was  first  explored,  it  was  asserted  that 
a  greater  cataract  than  Niagara  had  been  discovered.  The  two  are  so  widely  different  in  character, 
however,  that  no  comparison  can  be  made  between  them.  The  falls  of  the  Yosemite  owe  their 
attraction  to  the  immense  height  from  which  the  waters  descend,  and  the  grand  scenery  which  sur- 
rounds them  ;  while  Niagara  is  famous  for  its  immense  volume.  We  quote  from  the  description  of 
a  distinguished  European  writer  the  following  comparison  between  the  scenery  here  afforded,  and 
some  of  the  most  sublime  parts  of  Switzerland  :  "  When  we  come  to  the  '  Yosemite  Falls  '  proper, 
we  behold  an  object  which  has  no  parallel  anywhere  in  the  Alps.  The  upper  part  is  the  highest 
waterfall  in  the  world,  as  yet  discovered,  being  sixteen  hundred  feet  in  height.  It  reminds  me  of 
nothing  in  the  Alps  but  the  avalanches  seen  falling  at  intervals  down  the  precipices  of  the  Jungfrau. 
It  is,  indeed,  a  perpetual  avalanche  of  water  comminuted  as  finely  as  snow,  and  spreading,  as  it 
descends,  into  a  transparent  veil,  like  the  train  of  the  great  comet  of  1858.  As  you  look  at  it  from 
the  valley  beneath,  a  thousand  feet  below,  it  is  not  unlike  a  snowy  comet,  perpetually  climbing,  not 
the  heavens,  but  the  glorious  cliffs  which  tower  up  three  thousand  feet  into  the  zenith  above,  not 
unlike  a  firmament  of  rock." 

Below  the  Falls  are  two  of  the  most  striking  views  in  the  whole  valley,  formed  by  two  huge 
mountains  of  bare  granite,  called  the  North  and  South  Domes.  In  an  easterly  direction  from  them, 
and  towards  the  base  of  the  Northern  wall  there  is  a  valley  which  branches  off  from  the  main  one, 
and  is  drained  by  the  North  Fork  of  the  Merced.  A  short  walk  through  it  brings  the  tourist  to 
Mirror  Lake,  a  sheet  of  water  about  a  mile  in  circumference,  and  remarkably  transparent.  The 
surrounding  trees  and  rocks  are  reflected  in  its  bosom  with  such  faithfulness  that  the  shadows  arc- 
almost  as  distinct  and  clearly  defined  as  the  objects  themselves.  Standing  on  its  shore,  and  looking 
to  the  south,  a  full  view  of  the  South  Dome  may  be  obtained.  It  is  a  mountain  of  rock  that  rivals 
El  Capitan  in  grandeur.  From  a  base  covered  with  debris  of  soil  and  rock,  it  rises  in  the  air  4,737 
feet.  It  is  much  higher  than  the  Captain,  and  although  it  does  not  present  such  a  large  area  of 
perpendicular  surface,  its  sides  are  almost  perfectly  straight  nearly  half  the  distance  down  from  the 
summit.  The  mountain  is  sometimes  called  the  Semi-Dome,  a  large  portion  of  the  side  next  to  the 
Valley  appearing  to  have  been  broken  away  at  some  remote  period.  Efforts  have  been  made  to 
scale  it,  but  they  have  been  futile,  and  it  is  to-day  generally  believed  that  it  is  impossible  to  do  so. 

Turning  back  from  the  Lake,  and  entering  the  canon  through  which  the  main  branch  of  the 
Merced  river  flows,  the  same  variety  of  scenery  presents  itself.  Vast  masses  of  rock  loom  up  from 
the  banks  of  the  river  on  both  sides,  and  huge  boulders  are  scattered  around.  About  two  miles  up 
the  valley  there  rises  a  perpendicular  wall  which  prevents  any  further  progress.  Over  its  top  the 
river  falls  a  distance  of  nearly  400  feet,  forming  the  Vernal  Fall,  which  by  many  is  considered  the 
most  beautiful  cataract  in  the  Valley,  although  some  tourists  claim  that  distinction  for  the  Bridal 
Veil.  Against  the  wail  over  which  the  cataract  descends,  there  are  placed  several  flights  of  dilapi- 
dated ladder-stairs,  up  which  the  visitor  may  ascend  to  the  top,  if  he  be  sufficiently  venturesome. 
On  the  plateau  above,  and  close  to  the  brink  of  the  precipice,  there  is  a  natural  parapet  of  rock, 
breast-high,  over  which  one  can  lean  with  perfect  safety,  and  trace  the  course  of  the  foaming  water, 


THE      YOSEMITE      FALLS. 


;o 


THE    YOSEMITE    VALLEY. 


until  it  strikes  the  rocks  below.  In  the 
afternoon,  when  the  sun  shines,  there 
may  be  seen  at  this  fall  that  beautiful 
spectacle  —  a  circular  rainbow.  It  is 
like  the  simple  rainbow,  having  the 
same  colors,  only  that  it  is  a  complete 
circle,  which  dissolves  and  constantly 
forms  and  reforms  far  below. 

A  mile  further  up  the  Merced  Valley 
we  come  to  Nevada  Fall.  This  is,  in 
one  sense,  the  largest  in  the  valley, 
since  it  presents  the  greatest  body  of 
water  falling  th'e  greatest  distance.  It 
is  700  feet  high,  and  during  those  sea- 
sons of  the  year,  when  the  river  is 
swollen  and  deep,  it  shoots  clear  of  the 
rock,  and  so  descends  to  the  bottom  ; 
but  during  the  dry  season  it  strikes  the 
rock  a  short  distance  below  the  top,  and 
spreads  out  into  a  broad  sheet  of  foam. 

The  following  comparison  is  made 
by  a  gentleman  to  whom  we  have  before 
made  reference : 

"  To  return  again  to  the  comparison 
of  the  sister  valleys — the  Yosemite  and 
the  Lauterbrunnen.  The  third  peculiar 
feature  of  the  Swiss  valley  is  the  parallel 
precipices  on  each  side,  rising  perpen- 
dicularly from  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  feet. 


El  Capitan  from  Merced  River. 


Mirror  Lake  and  Mount  Watkins. 


They  are,  indeed,  sublime,  and  where  the 
cliff  projects,  in  a  rounded  form,  like  the 
bastions  of  some  huge  castle,  you  might 
imagine  that  you  beheld  one  of  the 
strongholds  of  the  fabled  Titans  of  old. 
But  what  are  they,  compared  with  such 
a  giant  as  El  Capitan,  lifting  up  his 
square,  granite  forehead,  three  thousand 
three  hundred  feet  above  the  grassy 
plain  at  his  feet,  a  rounded,  curving  cliff, 
as  smooth,  as  symmetrical  to  the  eye, 
and  absolutely  as  vertical,  for  the  upper 
fifteen  hundred  feet,  as  any  Corinthian 
pillar  on  earth  !  What  shall  we  say, 
when,  standing  in  the  middle  of  a  valley 
more  than  a  mile  wide,  you  know  that 
if  these  granite  walls  should  fall  toward 
each  other,  they  would  smite  their  fore- 
heads together  hundreds  of  feet  above 
the  valley  !  What  magnificent  domes 
are  those,  scarcely  a  mile  apart — the  one 
three  thousand  eight  hundred  feet,  and 
the  other  four  thousand  five  hundred 
and  ninety-three  feet  in  height !  When 
you  stand  in  the  valley  of  Lauterbrun- 
nen, and  look  at  the  snowy  summit  of 
Jungfrau,  or  'Virgin,1  you  behold  an 
object  eleven  thousand  feet  above  you  ; 


THE    YOSEMITE    VALLEY. 


• 


but  your  map  will  tell  you  that  it  is  five  miles  distant,  and,  by  a  little  calculation,  you  will  find 
that  you  raise  your  eyes  at  an  angle  of  only  twenty-three  degrees.  So  at  Chamounix,  you  look  up 
at  the  snowy  dome  of  Mont 
Blanc,  rising  twelve  thousand 
three  hundred  and  thirty  feet 
above  you  ;  but  you  must  re- 
member that  it  is  six  and  one- 
half  miles  distant  from  you, 
and  the  angle  at  which  you 
view  it  is  only  twenty  degrees, 
while  the  very  sharpest  angle 
at  which  you  can  view  it  is 
twenty-five  degrees.  But  at 
Yosemite  you  need  but  climb 
a  few  rods  up  the  rocks  at  the 
base  of  that  granite  wall,  and, 
leaning  up  against  it,  you  may 
look  up — if  your  nerves  are 
steady  enough  to  withstand 
the  impression  that  the  cliffs 
are  falling  over  upon  you — 
and  see  the  summits  above 
you,  at  an  angle  of  nearly 
ninety  degrees ;  in  other 
words,  you  will  behold  a  moun- 
tain top  three  thousand  feet 
above  you  in  tlic  zenith" 

The  Yosemite  Valley  is 
about  a  mile  wide.  The  soil 
is  diversified  ;  in  some  places 
it  is  rich,  while  in  others  light 
and  stony.  Two  or  three  at- 
tempts at  farming  have  proven 
that  grain  and  potatoes  will 
grow  well  there.  Timber  is 
abundant,  and  consists  of  pine, 
cedar,  fir,  and  oak,  but  no- 
where is  the  forest  dense.  In 
tracts  that  are  somewhat 
marshy,  the  grass  grows  long 
and  green,  and  cattle  and 
horses  are  occasionally  driven 
there  to  pasture  from  the  sur- 
rounding country. 

The  descent  into  the  Val- 
ley is  about  three  miles  in 
length,  and  is  very  steep,  al- 
though in  no  part  impracti- 
cable to  the  California  horse. 
But  whatever  the  difficulties 
which  attend  the  visit,  the 
tourist  will  find  the  grandeur 
of  the  scenery  full  compensa- 
tion for  all  his  pains. 


0 
0 
h 


Z 

0 

0 

Z 

h 

0 
0 

I 

in 


U 
3 
Q 


SARATOGA   SPRINGS  AND   SARATOGA   LAKE.  73 

SARATOGA  SPRINGS  AND  SARATOGA  LAKE. 

THERE  is  not  a  word  in  our  language  more  suggestive  of  gayety,  of  frivolity,  of  a  total  banish- 
ment of  care,  than  Saratoga.  The  virtues  of  its  Springs  have  given  it  a  long-established  pre- 
eminence even  among  famous  watering-places.  Not  only  is  it  a  rendezvous  for  those  butterflies  of 
fashion  whose  unremitting  devotion  to  the  sacred  duties  of  society  during  the  long  winter  season  has 
told  upon  their  delicate  frames,  but  chiefs  of  bureaus  from  Washington,  merchant  princes  from  New 
York,  "  speculative  "  statesmen  from  the  South,  invalids  from  Europe  vainly  seeking  that  health  so 
little  valued  until  lost,  English  tourists  bent  on  "  doing  "  America,  literary  men  representing  the 
journals  of  the  great  centres  on  the  alert  for  the  latest  rumor  or  the  last  scandal,  governors  of 
States  looking  (according  to  a  recent  foreign  critic*)  not  at  all  like  governors,  fortunate  miners 
from  the  Territories,  lovers  hoping  that  the  freedom  of  the  place  will  give  them  that  opportunity 
which  the  routine  of  city  life  does  not  afford — all  these,  from  all  parts  of  this  continent  and  every 
country  in  Europe,  here  meet  on  one  common  ground  ;  with  aims  and  aspirations  widely  differing, 
perhaps,  but  all  nominally  bent  on  seeking  that  dim  unreality,  pleasure — so  much  sought  after,  but 
so  rarely  found. 

Saratoga  owes  its  celebrity  to  the  medicinal  qualities  of  its  waters.  This  spot  is  said  to  have 
been  visited  by  invalids  as  early  as  1773  ;  but  Congress  Spring,  whose  waters  are  now  in  the  great- 
est request,  was  not  discovered  until  1792,  though  it  had  for  a  long  time  been  known  to,  and  esteemed 
by,  the  Indians,  who,  many  years  before  the  Revolutionary  War,  frequented  the  High  Rock  Spring. 
The  springs  number  about  twenty-three  or  four,  and  are  spread  over  a  tract  twelve  miles  across. 
After  the  Congress  Waters,  which  are  bottled  and  shipped  to  all  parts  of  the  world,  the  springs  most 
in  favor  and  use  at  Saratoga  are  the  Empire,  the  Hathorn,  the  Columbian,  the  High  Rock,  the  Red, 
the  Pavilion,  and  Putnam's.  The  Excelsior,  Minnehaha,  Star  and  Saratoga  Springs  are  also  popular. 
The  Empire  Spring,  the  most  northerly  one  in  the  village,  has  grown  greatly  in  repute  of  late  years. 
The  Hathorn  Spring,  which  is  situated  not  far  from  the  Empire,  is  also  esteemed  for  the  curious 
character  of  the  rock  from  which  it  issues,  and  whence  it  derives  its  name.  This  singular  rock  has 
been  formed  by  the  accumulated  deposits  of  the  mineral  substances  (magnesia,  lime,  and  iron)  held 
in  solution  by  the  carbonic  acid  gas  of  the  springs.  The  circumference  of  the  rock  at  the  surface  of 
the  ground  is  twenty-four  feet  and  four  inches,  its  height  three  feet,  with  an  aperture  nearly  one  foot 
in  diameter.  The  Seltzer  Spring  is  newly  opened.  All  of  these  waters  have  been  found  very  bene- 
ficial in  cases  of  affection  of  the  liver  and  chronic  diseases  of  the  bowels. 

The  scenery  surrounding  the  village  possesses  few,  if  any  extraordinary  attractions,  excepting 
Saratoga  Lake,  of  whose  beauties  we  have  endeavored  to  give  a  faithful  word  and  crayon  picture  in 
these  pages.  The  village  itself  consists  chiefly  of  a  single  street  lined  with  spacious  hotels,  board- 
ing-houses, and  the  private  residences  of  the  stationary  population.  The  first  hut  was  erected  in 
1773,  by  Dereck  Scowton,  and  the  first  frame-house  in  1784,  by  General  Schuyler.  The  streets  are 
gratefully  shaded  by  fine  trees,  and  most  of  the  hotels  have  spacious  grounds  tastefully  laid  out. 
The  Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  daily  Saratoga  programme  are  to  drink,  to  eat,  and  to  criticise  your 
neighbors.  A  recent  writer  thus  describes  it :  "  After  water  drinking  and  breakfasting,  Madame 
Saratoga  sits  in  silence  on  the  piazza  until  it  becomes  too  hot,  when  she  retires  to  dress  for  dinner. 
After  dinner  she  drives  out  or  takes  forty  winks.  Then  she  redresses  and  sits  silently  on  the  same 
piazza  listening  to  music.  About  dusk  all  the  leading  hotels  wake  to  life.  The  Grand  Union  goes 
to  the  Congress,  the  Congress  goes  to  the  United  States,  the  United  States  to  the  Grand  Union, 
and  no  on,  till  the  full  round  is  made,  and  till  the  fair  inmates  of  every  one  of  the  hotels  have 
reviewed  the  dresses  of  all  their  rivals  in  all  the  others.  Sometimes  Saratoga  is  supposed  to  dance 
in  the  evening,  but  she  never  does  in  reality.  The  hall  rooms  are  thrown  open  and  illuminated,  the 
orchestras  are  playing  the  Madame  Angot  quadrille  and  the  Blue  Danube  waltz,  but  no  one  dances, 
except  a  few  boarding-house  inmates  who  smuggle  themselves  into  the  hotels." 

Saratoga  Lake  is  nine  miles  long,  and  three  miles  broad,  and  is  about  three  miles  from  Saratoga 
Springs,  and  about  eight  miles  west  of  the  Hudson  River,  which  receives  its  outlet  waters  under 

*  Probably  this  fastidious  gentleman  is  a  descendant  of  that  well-to-do  countryman  who  went  to  London  with  no  other 
object  than  to  see  the  king,  George  III.,  and  who,  on  returning  to  his  native  village,  astonished  his  neighbors  by  declaring 
that  the  king  was  only  a  man. 


74 


SARATOGA   SPRINGS  AND  SARATOGA   LAKE. 


the  name  of  Fish  Creek.    The 
same    stream,   before   its   en- 
trance into  the  lake,  is  called 
by  the  sesquipedalian  title  of 
Rayaderosseras  River.     With 
its    pretty    maiden    name    it 
loses    its    beauty,    and    flows 
forth  from  its  union  with  the 
lake,    in    a   dull    and    murky 
stream,    and    so   drops    slug- 
gishly into  the  Hudson.     The 
dimensions  of  Saratoga  Lake 
dwindle     into     insignificance 
when  viewed   by  the  side  of 
the  great  lakes  of  New  York  ; 
but  its  natural  beauties  are  so 
many  and  varied    that    every 
•     year    thousands   of   pleasure- 
seekers  flock  to  its  shores  and  glide  over  its 
tranquil  surface  in  search  of  game  and  fish, 
which  abound  in  great  plenty  and  variety. 
In  the  fall  of  the  year  duck-shooting  is  one 
of  the  favorite  pastimes  of  the  sportsman, 
and  lovers  of  the  piscatory  art  may  be  seen 
trolling  for  pickerel,  or  still-fishing  for  perch, 
bass,  and  other  kinds  of  fish,  and  always  with 
success.     It  is  in  the  autumn  that  the  beau- 
ties of  Saratoga  Lake  can  be  best  appre- 
ciated ;  during  those  "  melancholy  days  the 
saddest  of  the  year  "  the  fairy-like  tints  of 

the  rich  and  mellowed  foliage  on  its  picturesquely  indented  banks  give  it  a  peculiar,  if  somewhat 
sombre,  charm.  Until  recently  but  slight  efforts  have  been  made  to  improve  the  natural  beauties 
of  the  lake.  The  farms  in  the  vicinity  have  been  in  the  possession  of  the  families  who  now 
own  them  ever  since  the  first  settlement  of  the  country.  A  more  delightful  spot  for  the  erection  of 
country  residences  could  not  well  be  found.  A  stroll  among  its  shores  presents  to  view  hills  on 
which  charming  villas  might  cluster,  each  with  its  own  spacious  ground  and  splendid  water  view  ; 
hollows  half  shadow,  half  sunshine,  in  which  a  group  of  rustic  cottages  might  be  gathered.  Mr.  Frank 
Leslie,  the  well-known  publisher,  owns  an  estate  on  the  borders  of  the  lake,  on  which  he  has 


A  Feeder  to  the  Lake. 


3 

Perch-Fishing  on  the  Lake. 


PROPOSED  CENTENNIAL  EXHIBITION  A  T  PHILADELPHIA.    75 

erected  a  fine  residence,  and  there  are  rumors  that  other  wealthy  New  Yorkers  will  soon  follow  his 
example.     The  indications  are  that  Saratoga  Lake  will  be  better  known  in  the  future  than  the  past. 

An  old  Indian  superstition  connected  with  this  lake,  undoubtedly  had  its  origin  in  its  unusual 
loneliness  and  tranquillity.  The  Mohawks  rested  in  the  belief  that  its  stillness  was  sacred  to  the 
Great  Spirit,  and  that,  if  a  human  voice  uttered  a  sound  upon  its  waters,  the  canoe  of  the  unhappy 
offender  would  sink  to  rise  no  more.  An  anecdote  is  related  of  an  Englishwoman,  in  the  early  days 
of  the  first  settlers,  who,  desiring  to  cross  this  lake  with  a  party  of  Indians,  was  warned  by  them 
before  setting  out,  of  the  awfulness  of  the  spell.  The  day  was  still  and  dreamy,  and  the  light  canoe 
passed  over  the  glossy  water  as  silently  as  a  feather.  When  in  about  the  middle  of  the  lake,  the 
woman,  wishing  to  shatter  the  blind  superstition  of  the  red-skins,  uttered  a  loud  cry.  Instantly  the 


Fishing  from  a  Sail-boat. 

countenances  of  the  Indians  became  clouded,  and  after  a  moment's  pause,  and  in  gloomy  silence, 
they  drove  the  light  cfaft  like  a  shadow  over  the  smooth  surface.  After  reaching  the  shore  in  safety, 
and  landing  the  canoe,  the  woman  rallied  the  Mohawk  on  his  credulity.  "  The  Great  Spirit  is 
merciful,"  replied  the  chief  scornfully  ;  "  He  knows  that  a  white  woman  cannot  hold  her  tongue." 


THE    PROPOSED  CENTENNIAL    EXHIBITION 

AT    PHILADELPHIA. 

THE  three  chief  cities  of  the  Atlantic  States— New  York,  Boston,  and  Baltimore — differ  to  a 
marked  degree  from  each  other  in  respect  to  their  architecture,  the  manner  in  which  they  are 
laid  out,  the  characteristics  of  their  populations,  and  their  mode  of  living.  New  York  is  eminently 
cosmopolitan.  It  is  built  in  its  lower  and  ancient  wards  as  though  its  founders  were  cramped  for 
room,  and  found  it  necessary  to  make  the  streets  as  narrow  as  possible,  without  rendering  them  no- 
thoroughfares  ;  although  in  its  upper  part  it  is  sufficiently  commodious  and  regular.  Its  population 
is  varied  and  constantly  changing,  all  nationalities  being  represented,  and  the  city  has  the  bustling, 


76    PROPOSED  CENTENNIAL  EXHIBITION  A  T  PHILADELPHIA. 

busy  air  that  always  marks  a  great  sea-port.  Boston  is  laid  out  with  an  absolutely  woful  want  of 
regularity.  It  is,  compared  with  New  York,  a  quiet  city,  with  a  well-known  leaning  toward  art  and 
literature  ;  and  it  has  a  conscious  air  of  being  exclusive,  dignified,  and  select,  which  the  press  and 
the  people  of  the  city  have  alike  carefully  endeavored  to  preserve.  Philadelphia,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  laid  out  evenly  and  regularly.  Its  industries  are  so  different  from  those  of  New  York  or  the  me- 
tropolis of  New  England,  that  they  have  naturally  affected  the  character  of  the  people,  who  are 
domestic  and  home-loving,  and  do  not  build  their  houses  to  gain  the  admiration  of  passers-by,  but 
with  a  view  to  comfort  and  durability.  They  have  also  plenty  of  room  for  the  extension  of  the  city's 
area,  and  have  thus  taken  to  the  erection  of  great  numbers  of  small  houses  for  the  accommodation 
of  the  poorer  classes — a  style  of  building  that  has  no  parallel  in  any  of  our  other  large  cities.  When 
we  consider  the  miseries  that  attend  life  in  the  tenement-houses  of  New  York  during  the  summer 
months,  this  is  an  advantage  that  cannot  be  over-estimated.  There  are  very  few  tenement-houses 
in  Philadelphia.  Each  household  has  its  own  dwelling,  which,  although  small,  is  at  least  comfortable. 
"  In  other  cities,"  says  a  writer  on  this  subject,  "  the  question  has  been  to  give  the  working  classes 
clean  and  comfortable  apartments.  In  Philadelphia  it  has  been  how  to  give  them  pleasant  and  attrac- 
tive homes.  It  is  impossible  to  place  too  high  a  value  on  the  effect  of  this  home  influence  on  the 
morals  and  manners  of  a  great  city,  not  to  mention  the  amount  of  suffering  it  prevents,  and  the 
happiness  it  confers  on  families.  The  quiet  atmosphere  that  seems  to  rest  on  its  homes,  pervades 
all  the  active  life  in  the  city.  The  hurrying,  jostling  crowds  that  block  the  lower  end  of  Broadway, 
are  not  seen.  Men  move  as  if  they  had  time  to  do  all  that  was  necessary.  You  are  not  carried 
away  by  the  restless,  feverish  existence  that  makes  New  York  boil  like  a  cauldron.  In  the  latter 
city,  men  seem  all  to  be  only  getting  ready  to  live,  as  if  they  had  no  time  to  enjoy  existence  until 
they  had  reached  a  certain  goal,  towards  which  they  were  driving  under  a  full  head  of  steam."  In 
Philadelphia,  the  inhabitants  seem  to  have  modeled  their  lives  on  a  fixed  plan,  and  move  on  evenly 
and  quietly  to  the  end.  A  Philadelphian,  it  is  said,  lives  nearly  twice  as  long  in  one  year  as  a  New 
Yorker. 

The  approaching  Centennial  celebration  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  of  which  Philadel- 
phia is  to  be  the  scene,  is  designed  to  be  mainly  an  exposition  of  the  best  products  of  the  various 
States  and  Territories.  An  interesting  part  of  the  display  to  American  eyes  will  be  that  embracing 
relics  of  the  Revolution.  In  this  respect  Philadelphia  will  have  one  of  the  richest  contributions  to 
make.  Of  great  interest,  too,  will  its  old  public  buildings  be.  In  Faneuil  Hall,  the  first  and  boldest 
utterances  were  heard  in  favor  of  the  freedom  of  the  colonies  ;  but  Independence  Hall  gave  birth 
to  the  Magna  Charta  of  American  history.  This  old  structure  of  old-fashioned  red  brick  still  stands 
as  it  did  nearly  a  hundred  years  ago  ;  and  visitors  will  be  enabled  to  look  upon  the  rooms  that  first 
heard  the  well-known  words  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence. 

The  city  of  Philadelphia  is  probably,  in  territory,  one  of  the  largest  in  the  world.  Although 
lying  between  two  rivers,  the  Delaware  and  the  Schuylkill,  it  is  not  bounded  by  them,  and  has  almost 
unlimited  room  for  expansion.  Although  with  a  much  smaller  population  than  New  York,  it  already 
covers  a  much  greater  area,  embracing  within  its  limits  one  hundred  and  twenty-six  square  miles. 
It  has  also  a  park — Fairmount  Park — lying  on  the  banks  of  the  Schuylkill  with  the  Wissahickon 
flowing  through  it.  It  is  one  of  the  largest  in  the  country,  and  is  full  of  interesting  points  and 
picturesque  scenes.  Much  of  the  natural  wildness  of  the  original  grounds  has  been  preserved,  and 
presents  a  fine  contrast  to  the  more  cultivated  parts.  There  are  lovely  drives  and  walks,  and  the 
carriage  road  along  the  banks  of  the  Wissahickon  is  as  picturesque  and  beautiful  as  any  artist  can 
wish  for. 

Philadelphia  has  also  fine  modern  buildings.  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  New  Masonic 
Temple,  the  Girard  College,  the  Union  League  Building,  and  the  Ledger  Building.  The  wealth  and 
prosperity  of  the  city  are  owing  a'.nost  entirely  to  its  factories,  which  turn  out  annually  wares  to  the 
average  value  of  about  two  hundred  and  seventy-five  millions  of  dollars.  Its  iron  foundries  alone 
produce  more  than  a  third  of  this  amount.  The  Schuylkill  .iver  divides  the  city  into  two  sections  ; 
that  lying  on  the  western  bank  is  known  as  West  Philadelphia.  It  is  on  much  higher  ground  than 
the  old  city,  and  is  built  up  in  finer  style. 


2 

0 

h 

i—  i 

n 

I 
X 
w 

j 

2; 
o 


K 

u 

z 

w 
I 
h 


w 
h 
35 

p 

en 
0 

0 
K 

o, 


h 


D 
0 


0 
K 


I 
EL 
j 

w 

Q 


THE  REGION   OF    THE    J  UNI  ATA. 


THE    REGION    OF  THE  JUNIATA. 


T 


Peace  and  Plenty. 


'HROUGH  the  wildest  region  of 
Pennsylvania  flows  as  lovely  a 
river  as  there  is  in  the  country.  Rising  in 
the  Alleghany  mountains,  the  Juniata 
winds  its  devious  way  eastward  through  a 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  mountain  scen- 
ery to  the  Susquehanna,  into  which  it 
empties.  Thirty  years  ago  travelers  cros- 
sing the  mountains  to  the  Ohio  River  were 
accustomed  to  make  the  journey  driving 
slowly  in  huge  wagons  along  the  banks  of 
this  river ;  to-day  the  same  route  is  still 
taken,  but  it  is  on  the  Pennsylvania  rail- 
road ;  and  a  canal  and  telegraph  line 
bear  the  railway  track  company.  With 
this  exception  in  the  manner  of  trans- 
portation, the  spirit  of  progress  has  made 
no  material  change  in  the  Juniata  valley. 
The  inhabitants  are  mainly  stolid  old 
Pennsylvania  farmers,  who  entertain  con- 
tempt for  anything  new,  and  to  this  day 
prefer  the  good  old-fashioned  way  of  travel- 
ing to  the  "  whizz  and  spit  railroads." 
For  the  most  part  of  German  descent,  they 
lead  a  life  remarkable  for  its  industry,  sim- 
plicity, and  thrift,  and  most  of  them  are 
wealthy. 

At  its  junction  with  the  Susquehanna, 

the  banks  of  the  Juniata  command  beautiful  prospects,  whichever  way  the  eye  turns.  Northward 
can  be  traced  the  placid  course  of  the  former  river,  with  its  green  islands  and  long  low  sand-bars. 
Southward,  fertile  pastures  and  staid  old  farm-houses  rise  in  view,  while  here  and  there  groups  of 
lazy  cattle  are  feeding  on  the'  green  grass  ;  and  westward  its  own  blue  waters  flow  with  their 
treasures  of  surrounding  scenery. 

Newport  is  a  little  town  ten  miles  up  the  river.  In  its  neighborhood  are  fine  mountain  views  and 
pretty  wooded  walks  along  the  banks  of  the  canal,  and  numerous  romantic  brooks  and  charming 
forest  nooks  and  glens.  In  the  vicinity  of  Millerstown,  Mifflintown,  and  Lewistown — thriving  villages 
situated  a  little  farther  up  the  river — numerous  picturesque  rivulets  and  some  more  pretentious 
streams  come  flowing  into  the  valleys.  In  most  of  them  trout  may  be  captured  in  abundance,  and 
in  the  forests  an  occasional  deer  may  be  seen.  At  Lewistown  there  is  a  stream,  that  is  even  excep- 
tionably  remarkable  for  the  beauty  of  its  surroundings.  The  path  along  its  banks  is  shaded  by 
overhanging  trees,  and  leads  past  little  cascades  and  several  charming  old  mills  and  cottages,  and  oc- 
casionally an  old  log-dwelling,  with  the  remains  of  a  capacious  fire-place,  calling  to  memory  the  hardy 
pioneers  who  first  entered  the  wilderness  of  Pennsylvania  in  dangerous  times  long  ago.  And  if  the 
tourist  be  of  a  romantic  nature,  he  may  gather  from  the  old  inhabitants  rich  pages  of  Indian  history 
and  legendary  lore. 

Westward  from  Lewistown  is  the  village  of  Huntingdon,  near  the  upper  waters  of  the  river. 
Here  the  character  of  the  country  begins  to  undergo  a  change.  The  hills  wear  a  more  imposing 
look,  and  encroach  more  and  more  upon  the  area  of  the  valley.  At  Petersburg,  the  railway  which 
for  most  of  the  distance  keeps  very  close  to  the  bank  of  the  river,  branches  off  towards  a  tributary 
called  the  Little  Juniata.  The  tourist  may  take  any  of  the  three  routes — the  river,  the  canal,  or  the 
railway — and  in  any  event  may  be  assured  of  sufficient  variety  and  entertainment,  though  the  two 
former  give  the  best  opportunities  for  studying  the  character  of  the  country. 


SCENE     ON     A    CREEK     EMPTYING     INTO    THE     LITTLE    JUNIATA, 


8o  THE  REGION  OF   THE   JUNIATA. 

Going  up  the  river  one  passes. Alexandria,  which  has  the  honor  of  being  the  social  centre  of  the 
valley.  Beyond  Alexandria  is  a  little  place  called  Water  Street.  Here  the  canal  joins  the  river, 
forming  what  the  boatmen  call  slackwater.  This  is  one  of  the  most  picturesque  spots  in  the  valley. 
The  hills  are  of  commanding  height,  and  the  river  road  for  a  few  miles  lies  in  their  shadow.  The 
mountain  sides  are  in  many  places  marked  by  the  debris  of  occasional  land  slides — a  feature  which 
is  characteristic  of  much  of  the  Juniata  scenery. 

From  Water  Street  we  go  on  twenty  or  thirty  miles  to  Hollidaysburg,  at  the  base  of  the  Allegha- 
Here  boats  and  cars  were  once  transported  over  the  mountains  through  Blair's  Summit  Gap 


mes. 


by  a  portage  railroad — a  work  of  some  magnitude  whose  construction  required  much  enterprise  and 
skilful  engineering.  It  is  forty  miles  long,  and  ascends  to  an  elevation  of  two  thousand  five  hundred 
and  seventy  feet.  There  are  ten  inclined  planes  on  the  route,  varying  in  height  from  4|  to  5f  de- 
grees, to  which  the  cars  were  raised  by  stationary  steam-engines  ;  a  tunnel  eight  hundred  and  seventy 
feet  long,  through  the  Staple  Bend  Mountain  of  the  Conemaugh  ;  and  four  viaducts — one  of  which, 
over  the  Horse-shoe  Bend,  is  a  semicircular  arch  of  eighty  feet  span.  The  cost  of  this  road  was 
over  two  million  dollars  before  the  war  and  the  days  of  paper  currency.  The  necessity  for  much  of 
this  apparatus  has  since  been  obviated  by  the  construction  of  a  tunnel. 

At  this  point  the  journey  westward  terminates,  and  returning  to  Water  Street,  a  pleasant  walk 
of  three  miles  will  take  one  across  the  country  to  the  railway  at  Spruce  Creek.  Although  a  new 
town,  this  is  the  most  prosperous  in  the  Juniata  region.  A  morning's  ramble  into  the  neighboring 
country  will  disclose  as  fresh  and  varied  a  scenery  as  anybody  can  desire.  In  one  place  is  a  broad, 
dew-sprinkled  lawn,  in  another  a  dense  thicket,  and  again  a  little  waterfall,  while  the  sterner  fea- 
tures of  the  landscape  remind  one  of  the  Catskills. 

The  central  or  mountain  region  of  Pennsylvania  is  nearly  two  hundred  miles  in  length.  On  one 
side  of  this  section  of  country  are  the  meadow  lands  of  the  Atlantic  slope,  and  on  the  other  is  the 
fertile  basin  of  the  Ohio.  The  rich  soil  of  the  two  latter  makes  them  the  grain-producing  sections 
of  the  State,  while  the  central  and  mountainous  territory  furnishes  vast  stores  of  anthracite  coal  and 
ores  of  various  kinds.  It  is  through  the  latter  region  that  the  Juniata  flows.  Its  surface  is  marked 
also  by  numerous  parallel  ridges  of  mountains  of  the  Appalachian  chain — among  which,  nearest  to 
the  Eastern  section,  are  the  South  Mountain,  Blue  Ridge,  and  the  Kittatinny.  Through  the  lattei 
the  Delaware  passes  at  the  celebrated  Water  Gap,  and  the  Lehigh  river  at  Wind  Gap.  These 


Tha  Little  Juniata — Tyrone  in  the  Distance. 


NIAGARA   FALLS:    PAST  AND   FUTURE.  81 

mountain  ranges  have  an  average  height  of  a  little  over  a  thousand  feet,  and  although  they  have  no 
element  of  grandeur,  they  contain  many  gems  of  water  and  valley  scenery.  It  is  in  the  forty  or  fifty 
miles  of  hill  and  valley  which  lie  between  the  Kittatinny  and  the  Susquehanna  that  the  great  Penn- 
sylvanian  coal-beds  lie. 


NIAGARA  FALLS:    PAST  AND  FUTURE. 

A     PHILOSOPHICAL     DISQUISITION     BY     PROFESSOR     TYNDALL. 

WE  have  now  to  consider  the  genesis  and  proximate  destiny  of  the  Falls  of  Niagara.  We  may 
open  our  way  to  this  subject  by  a  few  preliminary  remarks  upon  erosion.  Time  and  intensity 
are  the  main  factors  of  geologic  change,  and  they  are  in  a  certain  sense  convertible.  A  feeble  force 
acting  through  long  periods,  and  an  intense  force  acting  through  short  ones,  may  produce  approxi- 
mately the  same  results.  To  Dr.  Hooker  I  have  been  indebted  for  some  samples  of  stones,  the  first 
examples  of  which  were  picked  up  by  Mr.  Hackworth  on  the  shores  of  Lyell's  Bay,  near  Wellington, 
in  New  Zealand.  They  have  been  described  by  Mr.  Travers  in  the  Transactions  of  the  New  Zea- 
land Institute.  Unacquainted  with  their  origin,  you  would  certainly  ascribe  their  forms  to  human 
workmanship.  They  resemble  flint  knives  and  spear-heads,  being  apparently  chiseled  off  into  faces 
with  as  much  attention  to  symmetry  as  if  a  tool  guided  by  human  intelligence  had  passed  over 
them.  But  no  human  instrument  has  been  brought  to  bear  upon  these  stones.  They  have  been 
wrought  into  their  present  shape  by  the  wind-blown  sand  of  Lyell's  Bay.  Two  winds  are  dominant 
here,  and  they  in  succession  urged  the  sand  against  opposite  sides  of  the  stone ;  every  little  particle 
of  sand  chipped  away  its  infinitesimal  bit  of  stone,  and  in  the  end  sculptured  these  singular 
forms.* 

The  Sphinx  of  Egypt  is  nearly  covered  up  by  the  sand  of  the  desert.  The  neck  of  the  Sphinx  is 
partly  cut  across,  not,  as  I  am  assured  by  Mr.  Huxley,  by  ordinary  weathering,  but  by  the  eroding 
action  of  the  fine  sand  blown  against  it.  In  these  cases  nature  furnishes  us  with  hints  which  may 
be  taken  advantage  of  in  art ;  and  this  action  of  sand  has  been  recently  turned  to  extraordinary 
account  in  the  United  States.  When  in  Boston,  I  was  taken  by  Mr.  Josiah  Quincy  to  see  the  action 
of  the  sand-blast.  A  kind  of  hopper  containing  fine  silicious  sand  was  connected  with  a  reservoir 
of  compressed  air,  the  pressure  being  variable  at  pleasure.  The  hopper  ended  in  a  long  slit,  from 
which  the  sand  was  blown.  A  plate  of  glass  was  placed  beneath  this  slit,  and  caused  to  pass  slowly 
under  it ;  it  came  out  perfectly  depolished,  with  a  bright  opalescent  glimmer,  such  as  could  only  be 
produced  by  the  most  careful  grinding.  Every  little  particle  of  sand  urged  against  the  glass,  having 
all  its  energy  concentrated  on  the  point  of  impact,  formed  there  a  little  pit,  the  depolished  surface 
consisting  of  innumerable  hollows  of  this  description.  But  this  was  not  all.  By  protecting  certain 
portions  of  the  surface  and  exposing  others,  figures  and  tracery  of  any  required  form  could  be  etched 
upon  the  glass.  The  figures  of  open  iron-work  could  be  thus  copied  ;  while  wire-gauze  placed  over 
the  glass  produced  a  reticulated  pattern.  But  it  required  no  such  resisting  substance  as  iron  to 
shelter  the  glass.  The  patterns  of  the  finest  lace  could  be  thus  reproduced  ;  the  delicate  filaments 
of  the  lace  itself  offering  a  sufficient  protection. 

All  these  effects  have  been  obtained  with  a  simple  model  of  the  sand-blast  devised  for  me  by  my 
assistant.  A  fraction  of  a  minute  suffices  to  etch  upon  glass  a  rich  and  beautiful  lace  pattern.  Any 
yielding  substance  may  be  employed  to  protect  the  glass.  By  immediately  diffusing  the  shock  of 

*  "  The  stones,  which  have  a  strong  resemblance  to  works  of  human  art,  occur  in  great  abundance,  and  of  various 
sizes,  from  half  an  inch  to  several  inches  in  length.  A  large  number  were  exhibited  showing  the  various  forms,  which  are 
those  of  wedges,  knives,  arrow-heads,  &c.,  and  all  with  sharp  cutting  edges. 

"  Mr.  Travers  explained  that,  notwithstanding  their  artificial  appearance,  these  stones  were  formed  by  the  cutting  action 
of  the  wind-driven  sand  as  it  passed  to  and  fro  over  an  exposed  boulder  bank.  He  gave  a  minute  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  varieties  of  form  are  produced,  and  referred  to  the  effect  which  the  erosive  action  thus  indicated  would  have  on 
railway  and  other  works  executed  on  sandy  tracts. 

"  Dr.  Hector  stated  that  although,  as  a  group,  the  specimens  on  the  table  could  not  well  be  mistaken  for  artificial  pro- 
ductions, still  the  forms  are  so  peculiar,  and  the  edges,  in  a  few  of  them,  so  perfect,  that  if  they  were  discovered  associated 
with  human  works,  there  is  no  doubt  that  they  would  have  been  referred  to  the  so-called  '  stone  period.'  " — Extracted  from 
the  Minutes  of  the  Wellington  Philosophical  Society,  Feb.  9,  1869. 


82  NIAGARA   FALLS:    PAST  AND   FUTURE. 

the  particle,  such  substances  practically  destroy  the  local  erosive  power.  The  hand  can  bear  without 
inconvenience  a  sand-shower  which  would  pulverize  glass.  Etchings  executed  on  glass  with  suitable 
kinds  of  ink  are  accurately  worked  out  by  the  sand-blast.  In  fact,  within  certain  limits,  the  harder 
the  surface,  the  greater  is  the  concentration  of  the  shock,  and  the  more  effectual  is  the  erosion.  It 
is  not  necessary  that  the  sand  should  be  the  harder  substance  of  the  two  ;  corundum,  for  example, 
is  much  harder  than  quartz  ;  still,  quartz-sand  can  not  only  clepolish,  but  actually  blow  a  hole  through 
a  plate  of  corundum.  Nay,  glass  may  be  depolished  by  the  impact  of  fine  shot  ;  the  grains  in  this 
case  bruising  the  glass  before  they  have  time  to  flatten  and  turn  their  energy  into  heat. 

And  here,  in  passing,  we  may  tie  together  one  or  two  apparently  unrelated  facts.  Supposing  you 
turn  on,  at  the  lower  part  of  a  house,  a  cock  which  is  fed  by  a  pipe  from  a  cistern  at  the  top  of  the 
house,  a  column  of  water,  from  the  cistern  downwards,  is  set  in  motion.  By  turning  off  the  cock, 
this  motion  is  stopped ;  and  when  the  turning  off  is  very  sudden,  the  pipe,  if  not  strong,  may  be 
burst  by  the  internal  impact  of  the  water.  By  distributing  the  turning  of  the  cock  over  half  a  second 
of  time,  the  shock  and  danger  of  rupture  may  be  entirely  avoided.  We  have  here  an  example  of 
the  concentration  of  energy  in  time.  The  sand-blast  illustrates  the  concentration  of  energy  in  spaa-. 
The  action  of  flint  and  steel  is  an  illustration  of  the  same  principle.  The  heat  required  to  generate 
the  spark  is  intense,  and  the  mechanical  action  being  moderate,  must,  to  produce  fire,  be  in  the 
highest  degree  concentrated.  This  concentration  is  secured  by  the  collision  of  hard  substances. 
Calc-spar  will  not  supply  the  place  of  flint,  nor  lead  the  place  of  steel  in  the  production  of  fire  by 
collision.  With  the  softer  substances,  the  total  heat  produced  may  be  greater  than  with  the  hard 
ones  ;  but  to  produce  the  spark,  the  heat  must  be  intensely  localized. 

But  we  can  go  far  beyond  the  mere  depolishing  of  glass  ;  indeed,  I  have  already. said  that  quartz 
sand  can  wear  a  hole  through  corundum.  This  leads  me  to  express  my  acknowledgments  to  Gen. 
Tilghman,  who  is  the  inventor  of  the  sand-blast.  To  his  spontaneous  kindness  I  am  indebted  for 
some  beautiful  illustrations  of  his  process.  In  one  thick  plate  of  glass  a  figure  has  been  worked  out 
to  a  depth  of  three-eighths  of  an  inch.  A  second  plate  seven-eighths  of  an  inch  thick  is  entirely 
perforated.  Through  a  circular  plate  of  marble,  nearly  half  an  inch  thick,  open  work  of  the  most 
intricate  and  elaborate  description  has  been  executed.  It  would  probably  take  many  clays  to  per- 
form this  work  by  any  ordinary  process  ;  with  the  sand-blast  it  was  accomplished  in  an  hour.  So 
much  for  the  strength  of  the  blast  ;  its  delicacy  is  illustrated  by  a  beautiful  example  of  line  engrav- 
ing, etched  on  glass  by  means  of  the  blast. 

This  power  of  erosion,  so  strikingly  displayed  when  sand  is  urged  by  air,  renders  us  better  able 
to  conceive  its  action  when  urged  by  water.  The  erosive  power  of  a  river  is  vastly  augmented  by 
the  solid  matter  carried  along  with  it.  Sand  or  pebbles  caught  in  a  river  vortex  can  wear  away  the 
hardest  rock  ;  "pot-holes"  and  deep  cylindrical  shafts  being  thus  produced.  An  extraordinary  in- 
stance of  this  kind  of  erosion  is  to  be  seen  in  the  Val  Tournanche,  above  the  village  of  this  name. 
The  gorge  at  Handeck  has  been  thus  cut  out.  Such  waterfalls  were  once  frequent  in  the  valleys 
of  Switzerland  ;  for  hardly  any  valley  is  without  one  or  more  transverse  barriers  of  resisting  ma- 
terial, over  which  the  river  flowing  through  the  valley  once  fell  as  a  cataract.  Near  Pontresina  in 
the  Engadin,  there  is  such  a  case,  the  hard  gneiss  being  now  worn  away  to  form  a  gorge  through 
which  the  river  from  the  Morteratsch  glacier  rushes.  The  barrier  of  the  Kirchet  above  Meyringen 
is  also  a  case  in  point.  Behind  it  was  a  lake,  derived  from  the  glacier  of  the  Aar,  and  over  the  bar- 
rier the  lake  poured  its  excess  of  water.  Here  the  rock  being  limestone  was  in  great  part  dissolved, 
but  added  to  this  we  had  the  action  of  the  solid  particles  carried  along  by  the  water,  each  of  which, 
as  it  struck  the  rock,  chipped  it  away  like  the  particles  of  the  sand-blast.  Thus  by  solution  and 
mechanical  erosion  the  great  chasm  of  the  Fensteraar-Schlucht  was  formed.  It  is  demonstrable 
that  the  water  which  flows  at  the  bottoms  of  such  deep  fissures  once  flowed  at  the  level  of  what  is 
now  their  edges,  and  tumbled  down  the  lower  faces  of  the  barriers.  Almost  every  valley  in  Switzer- 
land furnishes  examples  of  this  kind  ;  the  untenable  hypothesis  of  earthquakes,  once  so  readily 
resorted  to  in  accounting  for  these  gorges,  being  now  for  the  most  part  abandoned.  To  produce  the 
Canons  of  Western  America  no  other  cause  is  needed  than  the  integration  of  effects  individually 
infinitesimal. 

And  now  we  come  to  Niagara.  Soon  after  Europeans  had  taken  possession  of  the  country,  the 
conviction  appears  to  have  arisen  that  the  deep  channel  of  the  river  Niagara  below  the  falls  had 
been  excavated  by  the  cataract.  In  Mr.  Bakewell's  "  Introduction  to  Geology,"  the  prevalence  of 
this  belief  has  been  referred  to  ;  it  is  expressed  thus  by  Prof.  Joseph  Henry  in  the  Transactions  of 


A     NIGHT     VIEW     OF    NIAGARA     IN     OLDEN     TIME. 


84  NIAGARA   FALLS:    PAST  AND   FUTURE. 

the  Albany  Institute  :  "  In  viewing  the  position  of  the  falls  and  the  features  of  the  country  round, 
it  is  impossible  not  to  be  impressed  with  the  idea  that  this  great  natural  raceway  has  been  formed 
by  the  continued  action  of  the  irresistible  Niagara,  and  that  the  falls,  beginning  at  Lewiston,  have, 
in  the  course  of  ages,  worn  back  the  rocky  strata  to  their  present  site."  The  same  view  is  advocated 
by  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  by  Mr.  Hall,  by  M.  Agassiz,  by  Prof.  Ramsay,  indeed  by  almost  all  of  those 
who  have  inspected  the  place. 

A  connected  image  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  the  cataract  is  easily  obtained.  Walking  north- 
ward from  the  village  of  Niagara  Falls  by  the  side  of  the  river,  we  have  to  our  left  the  deep  and 
comparatively  narrow  gorge  through  which  the  Niagara  flows.  The  bounding  cliffs  of  this  gorge  are 
from  300  to  350  feet  high.  We  reach  the  whirlpool,  trend  to  the  northeast,  and  after  a  little  time 
gradually  resume  our  northward  course.  Finally,  at  about  seven  miles  from  the  present  Falls,  we 
come  to  the  edge  of  a  declivity  which  informs  us  that  we  have  been  hitherto  walking  on  table-land. 
Some  hundreds  of  feet  below  us  is  a  comparatively  level  plain,  which  stretches  to  Lake  Ontario. 
The  declivity  marks  the  end  of  the  precipitous  gorge  of  the  Niagara.  Here  the  river  escapes  from 
its  steep  mural  boundaries,  and  in  a  widened  bed  pursues  its  way  to  the  lake  which  finally  receives 
its  waters.  ' 

The  fact  that  in  historic  times,  even  within  the  memory  of  man,  the  fall  has  sensibly  receded, 
prompts  the  question,  how  far  has  this  recession  gone  ?  At  what  point  did  the  ledge  which  thus 
continually  creeps  backwards  begin  its  retrograde  course  ?  To  minds  disciplined  in  such  researches 
the  answer  has  been  and  will  be,  at  the  precipitous  declivity  which  crossed  the  Niagara  from  Lewis- 
ton  on  the  American  to  Queenston  on  the  Canadian  side.  Over  this  transverse  barrier  the  united 
affluents  of  all  the  upper  lakes  once  poured  their  waters,  and  here  the  work  of  erosion  began.  The 
dam,  moreover,  was  demonstrably  of  sufficient  height  to  cause  the  river  above  it  to  submerge  Goat 
Island  ;  and  this  would  perfectly  account  for  the  finding  by  Mr.  Hall,  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  and  others, 
in  the  sand  and  gravel  of  the  island,  the  same  fluviatile  shells  as  are  now  found  in  the  Niagara  rivet- 
higher  up.  It  would  also  account  for  those  deposits  along  the  sides  of  the  river,  the  discovery  of 
which  enabled  Lyell,  Hall,  and  Ramsay  to  reduce  to  demonstration  the  popular  belief  that  the 
Niagara  once  flowed  through  a  shallow  valley. 

The  physics  of  the  problem  of  excavation,  which  I  made  clear  to  my  mind  before  quitting 
Niagara,  are  revealed  by  a  close  inspection  of  the  present  Horse-sh6e  Fall.  Here  we  see  evidently 
th  it  the  greatest  weight  of  water  bends  over  the  very  apex  of  the  Horse-shoe.  In  a  passage  in  his 
excellent  chapter  on  Niagara  Falls,  Mr.  Hall  alludes  to  this  fact.  Here  we  have  the  most  copious 
and  the  most  violent  whirling  of  the  shattered  liquid  ;  here  the  most  powerful  eddies  recoil  against 
the  shale.  From  this  portion  of  the  fall,  indeed,  the  spray  sometimes  rises  without  solution  of  con- 
tinuity to  the  region  of  clouds,  becoming  gradually  more  attenuated,  and  passing  finally  through  the 
condition  of  true  cloud  into  invisible  vapor,  which  is  sometimes  reprecipitated  higher  up.  All  the 
phenomena  point  distinctly  to  the  centre  of  the  river  as  the  place  of  greatest  mechanical  energy, 
and  from  the  centre  the  vigor  of  the  Fall  gradually  dies  away  towards  the  sides.  The  horse-shoe 
form,  with  the  concavity  facing  downwards,  is  an  obvious  and  necessary  consequence  of  this  action. 
Right  along  the  middle  of  the  river  the  apex  of  the  curve  pushes  its  way  backwards,  cutting  along 
the  centre  a  deep  and  comparatively  narrow  groove,  and  draining  the  sides  as  it  passes  them.  Hence 
the  remarkable  discrepancy  between  the  widths  of  the  Niagara  above  and  below  the  Horse-shoe. 
All  along  its  course,  from  Lewiston  Heights  to  ts  present  position,  the  form  of  the  Fall  was  probably 
that  of  a  horse-shoe  ;  for  this  is  merely  the  expression  of  the  greater  depth,  and  consequently  greater 
excavating  power,  of  the  centre  of  the  river.  The  gorge,  moreover,  varies  in  width  as  the  depth  of 
the  centre  of  the  ancient  river  varied,  being  narro.west  where  that  depth  was  greatest. 

The  vast  comparative  erosive  energy  of  the  Horse-shoe  Fall  comes  strikingly  into  view  when  it 
and  the  American  Fall  are  compared  together.  The  American  branch  of  the  upper  river  is  cut  at  a 
right  angle  by  the  gorge  of  the  Niagara.  Here  the  Horse-shoe  Fall  was  the  real  excavator.  It  cut  the 
rock  and  formed  the  precipice  over  which  the  American  Fall  tumbles.  But  since  its  formation,  the 
erosive  action  of  the  American  Fall  has  been  almost  nil,  while  the  Horse-shoe  has  cut  its  way  for 
five  hundred  yards  across  the  end  of  Goat  Island,  and  is  now  doubling  back  to  excavate  a  channel 
parallel  to  the  length  of  the  island.  This  point,  I  have  just  learned,  has  not  escaped  the  acute  ob- 
servation of  Prof.  Ramsay.0  The  river  bends  ;  the  Horse-shoe  immediately  accommodates  itself  to 

*  His  words  arc  : — "Where  the  body  of  water  is  small   in  the  American  Fall,  the  edge  has  only  receded  a  few  yards 


SABBATH-DAY  POINT,   LAKE    GEORGE.  85 

the  bending,  and  will  follow  implicitly  the  direction  of  the  deepest  water  in  the  upper  stream.  The 
flexibility  of  the  gorge,  if  I  may  use  the  term,  is  determined  by  the  flexibility  of  the  river  channel 
above  it.  Were  the  Niagara  above  the  Fall  sinuous,  the  gorge  would  obediently  follow  its  sinuosities. 
Once  suggested,  no  doubt  geographers  will  be  able  to  point  out  many  examples  of  this  action.  The 
Zambesi  is  thought  to  present  a  great  difficulty  to  the  erosion  theory,  because  of  the  sinuosity  of 
the  chasm  below  the  Victoria  Falls.  But  assuming  the  basalt  to  be  of  tolerably  uniform  texture, 
had  the  river  been  examined  before  the  formation  of  this  sinuous  channel,  the  present  zigzag  course 
of  the  gorge  below  the  Fall  could,  I  am  persuaded,  have  been  predicted,  while  the  sounding  of  the 
present  river  would  enable  us  to  predict  the  course  to  be  pursued  by  the  erosion  in  the  future. 

But  not  only  has  the  Niagara  river  cut  the  gorge  ;  it  has  carried  away  the  chips  of  its  own  work- 
shop. The  shale  being  probably  crumbled  is  easi'y  carried  away.  But  at  the  base  of  the  fall  we 
find  the  huge  boulders  already  described,  and  by  some  means  or  other  these  are  removed  down  the 
river.  The  ice  which  fills  the  gorge  in  winter,  and  which  grapples  with  the  boulders,  has  been 
regarded  as  the  transporting  agent.  Probably  it  is  so  to  some  extent.  But  erosion  acts  without 
ceasing  on  the  abutting  points  of  the  boulders,  thus  withdrawing  their  support  and  urging  them 
gradually  down  the  river.  Solution  also  does  its  portion  of  the  work.  That  solid  matter  is  carried 
down  is  proved  by  the  difference  of  depth  between  the  Niagara  river  and  Lake  Ontario,  where  the 
river  enters  it.  The  depth  falls  from  seventy-two  feet  to  twenty  feet,  in  consequence  of  the  deposi- 
tion of  solid  matter  caused  by  the  diminished  motion  of  the  river.* 

In  conclusion,  we  may  say  a  word  regarding  the  proximate  future  of  Niagara.  At  the  rate  of 
excavation  assigned  to  it  by  Sir  Charles  Lyell,  namely,  a  foot  a  year,  five  thousand  years  or  so  will 
carry  the  Horse-shoe  Fall  far  higher  than  Goat  Island.  As  the  gorge  recedes  it  will  drain,  as  it  has 
hitherto  done,  the  banks  right  and  left  of  it,  thus  leaving  a  nearly  level  terrace  between  Goat  Island 
and  the  edge  of  the  gorge.  Higher  up  it  will  totally  drain  the  American  branch  of  the  river ;  the 
channel  of  which  in  due  time  will  become  cultivable  land.  The  American  Fall  will  then  be  trans- 
formed into  a  dry  precipice,  forming  a  simple  continuation  of  the  cliffy  boundary  of  the  Niagara.  At 
the  place  occupied  by  the  fall  at  this  moment  we  shall  have  the  gorge  enclosing  a  right  angle,  a 
second  whirlpool  being  the  consequence  of  this.  To  those  who  visit  Niagara  a  few  millenniums 
hence  I  leave  the  verification  of  this  prediction.  All  that  can  be  said  is,  that  if  the  causes  now  in 
action  continue  to  act,  it  will  prove  itself  literally  true. 


SABBATH-DAY    POINT,    LAKE    GEORGE. 

ON  the  western  shore  of  Lake  George  there  is  a  promontory  that  is  famous  in  the  history  of  the 
French  and  Indian  warfare,  and  in  the  annals  of  the  Indians  themselves.  It  was  here  that  in 
July,  1756,  Lieutenant  Corbierie,  with  a  force  of  fifty  Canadians  and  three  hundred  Ottawas,  lay  in 
ambush.  A  day  and  a  night  they  remained  on  the  watch  in  their  bark  canoes  waiting  for  the  ap- 
proach of  a  body  of  English  troops.  At  break  of  day  they  espied  their  adversaries,  numbering  some 
three  hundred,  drawing  nigh  in  twenty-two  barges,  in  which  they  had  embarked  from  Fort  William 
Henry  the  night  before.  The  engagement  was  entered  into  with  vigor  and  resolution  on  both  sides, 
but  the  French  and  Indians  soon  discovered  that  they  could  gain  no  advantage  unless  they  boarded 
the  English  boats.  The  many  massacres  which  had  been  perpetrated  by  the  savage  allies  of  the 
French  had  made  them  a  terror  to  the  English  soldiers,  and  when  the  latter  saw  them  approach  to 
close  quarters,  they  became  panic-stricken,  and  pulled  towards  the  bank  as  fast  as  possible.  Some 
of  them  even  leaped  into  the  water  thinking  to  escape  by  swimming  ashore  ;  but  it  was  all  in  vain. 
The  clumsy  boats  could  not  outspeed  the  canoes,  and  the  English  were  soon  overtaken.  In  the 
first  part  of  the  conflict  all  that  were  captured  were  massacred  without  mercy,  but  at  length  the 
Indians  began  to  take  prisoners.  The  number  of  captives  amounted  to  one  hundred  and  fifty-seven, 

(where  most  eroded)  during  the  time  that  the  Canadian  Fall  has  receded  from  the  north  corner  of  Go.it  Island  to  the  inner- 
most curve  of  the  Horse-shoe  Fall." — Quarterly  Journal  of  Geological  Society,  May,  1859. 

*  Near  the  mouth  of  the  gorge  at  Queenston,  the  depth,  according  to  the  Admiralty  Chart,  is  180  feet ;  well  within  the 
gorge  it  is  132  feet. 


Ul 
0 

c 
u 

0 


X 

h 
•< 
c 
ffi 


THE   ERIE    CANAL.  87 

one  hundred  and  thirty-one  having  been  killed — twelve  only  escaping.  On  the  French  side,  there 
was  no  loss  at  all,  and  of  the  Indians  one  only  was  slightly  wounded. 

At  night,  the  Indians  having  imbibed  large  quantities  of  ardent  spirits,  became  blood-thirsty,  and 
roasted  and  ate  several  of  their  prisoners.  A  French  officer  named  Roubard,  whose  tent  was  placed 
in  the  middle  of  the  encampment  of  the  Ottawas,  says  that  the  first  object  which  met  his  eyes  on 
arriving  there,  was  a  large  fire.  Near  it  were  wooden  spits  fixed  in  the  earth  to  which  was  fastened 
the  body  of  an  Englishman.  The  skin  was  stripped  off,  and  more  than  one-half  of  the  flesh  was 
gone,  and  a  few  moments  later  he  saw  the  savages  eat  of  the  remaining  flesh  with  avidity.  Close  at 
hand  they  had  meantime  tied  ten  of  the  prisoners  as  spectators  of  the  scene. 

Two  years  later  Sabbath-Day  Point  witnessed  the  encampment  of  the  greatest  expedition  ever  sent 
against  the  French  and  Canadians.  The  army  comprised  6,350  regulars  and  9,000  provincials.  The 
fleet  consisted  of  nine  hundred  bateaux,  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  whale-boats,  numerous  rafts  for 
the  transportation  of  the  artillery,  and  two  towers  highly  decorated,  each  with  two  mounted  cannon. 
They  landed  at  Sabbath-Day  Point  on  a  Sunday — from  which  incident  the  place  derived  its  present 
name.  Montcalm  was  in  command  at  Ticonderoga,  and  on  the  day  of  the  landing  sent  Capt.  De 
Trepezec,  with  a  detachment  of  three  hundred  men  to  prevent  the  disembarcation,  if  possible.  The 
attempt  was  unsuccessful,  however,  and  only  fifty  or  sixty  of  the  French  escaped ;  De  Trepezec 
being  himself  mortally  wounded.  The  English  loss  was  only  twenty-two,  but  it  included  Lord  Howe, 
an  officer  who  was  much  beloved. 

The  following  day  a  battalion  of  Americans,  advanced  to  a  post  within  two  miles  of  Fort  Ticon- 
deroga, and  the  remainder  of  the  army  followed  them  the  same  night.  In  the  morning  it  was  deter- 
mined to  attempt  to  carry  the  fort  by  storm.  The  French  had  fortified  it  in  every  way  possible,  and 
had,  in  addition,  felled  oak-trees  for  nearly  a  hundred  yards  in  front  of  the  lines,  their  branches 
sharpened  and  pointing  outward.  At  one  o'clock  the  order  was  given  to  attack,  and  the  provincials 
marched  up  to  the  works,  received  the  fire,  and  then  turned  aside  to  make  way  for  the  regulars.  The 
troops  moved  on  through  the  swamps  and  underbrush,  and  strove  to  force  the  impenetrable  barri- 
cade. A  few  Highlanders  reached  the  breast-works,  but  were  instantly  slain  by  the  enemy's  bayo- 
nets. All  day  long  the  assault  was  maintained,  but  in  the  evening  the  English  were  compelled  to 
abandon  the  field,  leaving  their  dead  and  disabled  behind  them.  The  number  of  killed  and  wounded 
was  1,942.  The  following  day  the  army  re-embarked  and  returned  to  Fort  William  Henry,  and  the 
great  Abercrombie  expedition  was  at  an  end. 


THE    ERIE   CANAL. 

THE  project  of  digging  a  canal  that  would  extend  to  Lake  Erie,  had  been  agitated  without  sub- 
stantial success  at  various  times  previous  to  1815.  During  the  latter  part  of  that  year,  at  a 
public  meeting  a  committee  was  selected  to  memorialize  the  Legislature  on  the  subject.  This  duty 
was  performed  by  their  chairman,  De  Witt  Clinton,  who  prepared  what  is  known  as  the  New  York 
Memorial,  in  which  the  practicability  and  advantages  of  the  projected  canal  were  set  forth  so  clearly 
and  forcibly  that  the  opposition  to  the  scheme  fell  into  a  minority.  Petitions  were  presented,  signed 
by  thousands  of  citizens  throughout  the  State,  praying  for  an  appropriation  for  the  work,  and,  finally, 
the  Legislature  made  an  appropriation.  A  Canal  Fund  was  established,  special  taxes  were  levied, 
and  the  work  was  commenced. 

On  the  4th  of  July,  1817,  the  first  spadeful  of  earth  was  removed  from  the  surveyed  route  amid 
the  acclamations  of  a  large  concourse  of  persons,  who,  says  one  of  the  chronicles  of  the  day, 
"  exulted  in  the  past,  enjoyed  the  present,  and  anticipated  the  future."  From  that  time  the  work  pro- 
gressed rapidly,  although  it  still  met  with  considerable  opposition.  Governor  Clinton  was  its  most 
devoted  friend,  and  eloquently  expatiated  on  the  advantages  which  agriculture,  manufactures,  and 
commerce  would  derive  from  it.  Indeed,  so  persistent  were  his  efforts  in  its  behalf,  that  the  canal 
is  still  known  by  the  alias  of  "  Clinton's  Ditch." 

The  western  and  last  section  was  completed  in  1825,  eight  years  after  the  beginning  of  the  work, 
and  the  success  of  the  undertaking  was  announced  by  the  firing  of  cannon  all  along  the  route.  And 


88 


THE   ERIE    CANAL. 


in  truth  it  was  a  success  of  which  its  projectors  had  reason  to  be  proud.  They  had  constructed  an 
artificial  stream  three  hundred  and  sixty-three  miles  long,  forty  feet  wide  on  the  surface,  twenty- 
eight  feet  at  the  bottom,  and  four  feet  deep,  containing  eighty-three  locks,  built  of  massive  stone,  of 
which  the  chambers  are  ninety  by  fifteen  feet,  and  capable  of  containing  boats  of  more  than  a  hun- 
dred tons  burden.  The  difficulties  that  had  been  overcome  on  the  eastern  section  of  the  canal  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Little  Falls,  were  the  most  formidable  of  all.  In  speaking  of  this  section  the 
Canal  Commissioners,  after  pointing  proudly  to  the  fact  that  American  skill  had  done  in  eighty  days 
what  a  foreign  engineer  had  estimated  would  require  several  years,  say  :  "  None  but  those  who  had 
examined  the  line  previous  to  the  commencement  of  the  work — who  had  seen  the  rude  and  undu- 
lating surface  which  is  traversed — the  rocks  which  were  to  be  blasted — the  swamps  and  quicksands 
which  were  to  be  made  impervious  to  water — and,  in  short,  the  huge  masses  of  rough  materials 
which  with  uncommon  labor  were  reduced  to  symmetry  and  form,  can  duly  appreciate  the  efforts 
which  it  has  required  to  surmount  these  serious  difficulties."  And,  in  conclusion,  they  say  that  "had 
this  portion  of  the  work  been  begun  originally,  while  their  information  respecting  the  construction 
of  canals  was  only  theoretical,  the  attempt  would  have  defeated,  or  at  least  postponed  for  a  century, 
the  accomplishment  of  the  great  work  of  internal  improvement." 


Grain-Boat  0.1  thi  Brie  Canai. 

The  difficulties  that  met  the  engineers  at  Lockport — the  canal-boats  here  enter  successively  five 
locks,  built  of  solid  masonry,  which  lift  the  heavy  boat,  with  its  two  hundred  tons  of  cargo,  seventy- 
five  feet  in  a  few  minutes — were  also  of  no  ordinary  kind.  They  had  to  cut  through  three  miles  of 
stone,  and  build  the  immense  locks,  which  gave  the  town  its  name,  in  the  face  of  numerous  and  seri- 
ous obstacles.  But  they  persevered  notwithstanding  all  discouragements ;  and,  at  last,  the  work  was 
completed.  Then  came  a  season  of  rejoicing  that  has  not  been  equalled  in  the  history  of  the  State. 
The  Governor,  in  the  company  of  prominent  officials,  and  with  many  distinguished  citizens,  traversed 
the  canal,  starting  from  Buffalo,  the  party  being  conveyed  in  a  fleet  of  canal-boats,  drawn  by  gayly- 
caparisoned  horses.  Along  their  whole  route  they  received  one  continual  ovation,  at  every  town  the 
municipal  authorities  being  on  hand  to  welcome  them  and  to  exchange  congratulations.  The  news- 
papers of  the  day  teemed  with  accounts  of  the  ceremonies.  The  festivities  lasted  ten  days,  and 
were  participated  in  by  nearly  the  whole  population  of  the  State.  The  wildest  and  most  extravagant 
prophecies  were  made  respecting  the  vast  wealth  the  canal  would  attract  to  New  York  city.  The 
whole  of  the  West  would  send  their  grain  products  over  its  waters.  Other  States  would  follow  the 
example  of  New  York,  and  would  build  tributaries  to  the  great  Erie  canal.  Governor  Clinton 
poured  some  of  the  water  of  Lake  Erie  into  the  Atlantic  Ocean  to  commemorate  the  communication 
which  had  been  established  between  them,  and  the  Common  Council  of  the  city  of  New  York 
published  a  huge  memorial  of  the  ceremonies  attending  the  final  celebration. 

That  to-day  with  long  freight-trains  rolling  daily  over  the  track  of  the  New  York  Central  Rail- 
way, almost  side  by  side  with  the  canal,  it  should  still  be  a  very  important  aid  to  freight  transporta- 


THE   ERIE    CANAL.  89 

tion,  shows  that  the  enthusiasts  of  fifty  years  ago  were  not  altogether  wrong  as  to  its  importance. 
When  the  Spring  thaw  sets  in,  and  navigation  suspended  during  the  Winter  is  resumed,  thousands 
and  thousands  of  men  obtain  employment  in  various  capacities  on  the  many  boats  ;  and  there  is 
reason  to  believe  that  the  freight  business  of  the  Canal  may  yet  increase  immensely.  It  has  been 
estimated  that  the  total  amount  of  freight  transported  from  the  cereal-producing  States  of  the  West  to 
the  Atlantic  sea-board  approximates  ten  millions  of  tons  annually.  Of  this  the  Erie  Canal  carries  alone 
three  millions  of  tons,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  Canal  is  only  open  for  six  months,  and  that 
its  great  rivals,  the  New  York  Central  Railroad,  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  and  the  Baltimore  and 
Ohio  Railroad,  are  in  operation  the  year  round.  Exclusive  of  its  branches  the  Erie  Canal,  from 
Buffalo  to  Albany,  is  320  miles  long,  and  about  28,000  men  and  boys  are  employed  in  various  capaci- 
ties in  operating  the  boats  during  the  season,  and  the  number  of  horses  and  mules  used  for  towing 
is  about  16,000.  In  the  busy  season  nearly  a  hundred  and  fifty  boats  reach  tide-water  through  the 
Erie  Canal  daily,  each  boat  containing  more  cargo,  according  to  an  eminent  engineer,  than  the 
average  railroad  train,  or  more  in  the  aggregate  than  twenty  miles  of  railroad  trains  could  carry.  Yet 
it  has  well  been  said  that  while  the  plodding  canal-boat  attracts  no  attention,  the  railroad  train 
creates  a  sensation  in  every  village  through  which  it  passes.  Standing  in  the  roadway  or  sweet 
meadow  land,  attention  never  rests  upon  the  boat  that  is  gliding  through  the  narrow  inland  water- 
way ;  the  extent  of  the  system  is  rarely  dreamed  of,  so  methodical  and  unobtrusive  is  it ;  but  should 
a  delay  occur  at  one  of  the  locks,  in  twenty-four  hours  hundreds  of  boats  would  accumulate,  with  as 
much  grain  on  board  as  would  feed  a  nation  for  at  least  one  day. 

A  recent  writer  in  Harpers  Magazine  gives  a  vivid  description  of  the  habits  of  those  engaged 
in  this  traffic  :  "  There  is  a  vivid  charm  about  all  migratory  people,  and  in  vagabond  adventure  and 
vagabond  life  we  find  the  breadth  and  color  which  elevate  the  commonplace  into  the  romantic.  The 
changing  scenes  and  multifarious  experiences  stimulate  the  memory,  quicken  the  eye,  and  loosen 
the  tongue.  Among  those  whose  vagabondage  is  a  necessity,  and  valuable  commercially,  are  the 
canal-boat  men.  In  their  vessels  they  have  their  homes,  their  wives,  and  their  children.  While 
they  are  moving  toward  the  sea-board  or  to  the  West,  babies  are  born  to  them,  children  are  schooled, 
and  young  men  and  women  are  married.  A  few  own  homes  on  shore,  and  do  not  allow  their  wives 
to  accompany  them,  but  most  of  them  have  been  brought  up  in  a  cabin  less  spacious  than  a  tent. 
They  are  cleanly  and  moral ;  the  common  schools  have  had  no  uses  for  them ;  but  in  wandering 
from  hamlet  to  hamlet  and  city  to  city,  they  have  acquired  singularly  varied  knowledge,  and  habits 
at  once  creditable  to  themselves  and  interesting  to  the  observer." 

Of  the  life  on  board  the  boats  and  the  scenes  to  be  viewed  from  them,  he  further  remarks : 
"  From  the  windows  of  some  cabins  floods  of  hospitable  light  poured,  revealing  domestic  groups  at 
supper,  reading  and  sewing ;  with  the  voices  of  men  and  women  mingled  the  soft,  swelling  tones  of 
a  parlor  organ,  and  the  less  musical  clicking  of  several  sewing-machines.  Contentment  and  tran- 
quillity rested  upon  these  water-homes,  a  gentle  spirit  pervaded  them,  and  though  they  were  ever 
moving,  the  bonds  within  seemed  permanent  and  strong.  There  was  no  riotous  conduct,  little  loud 
talking,  scarcely  anything  stirring  but  the  water  rippling  about  the  stern.  The  inexpressibly  deli- 
cate outlines  of  the  river  banks,  and  the  unclouded,  infinite  vault  above,  spread  their  influence  over 
the  good  and  bad,  the  rough  and  gentle,  of  the  cortege  alike.  Mothers  were  hushing  their  children 
to  sleep  on  some  decks,  and  to  complete  the  picture  there  loomed  in  evening  light  a  young  boatman 
bending  over  the  side  of  his  own  craft  to  clasp  the  hand  of  his  sweetheart  on  another.  Shrewd  with 
strangers,  among  themselves  these  people  are  simple  and  generous.  Our  captain's  two  daughters 
were  his  idols,  and  of  his  plans  to  give  them  pleasure  there  was  no  end.  The  tough  old  gentleman 
was  little  addicted  to  profitless  day-dreaming,  but  in  speaking  of  his  girls  his  vision  expanded  and 
elevated  him  to  the  region  of  the  idealist.  At  sunset  on  our  second  evening  out,  as  the  sky  was 
lost  in  seas  of  golden  light,  he  stood,  drawn  to  his  fullest  height,  on  the  roof  of  the  cabin,  with  his 
head  uncovered,  and,  while  his  profile  was  stamped  in  clear  relief  on  the  glowing  expanse,  he  ten- 
derly spoke  to  his  wife  and  us,  seated  below,  of  the  bright  future  he  intended  his  eldest  daughter 
should  have.  Unconsciously  his  attitude  and  words  expressed  the  glory  of  paternal  affection,  and 
the  wisdom  and  far-looking  thoughts  which  spring  from  it." 

"  The  purest  democracy  exists  among  boatmen ;  obedience  is  necessarily  exacted,  but  other^ 
wise  employees  have  little  reverence  in  the  treatment  of  their  superiors.  They  eat  at  the  same 
table,  and  are  waited  on  by  the  captain's  wife.  While  the  captain  was  dozing  on  deck  one  of  his 
men  would  coolly  take  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth,  and  use  it  himself.  His  stories  were  openly  winked 


J 
J 


u 
J 
h 
h 

•-* 

J 

e 

w 
2 

J 
Z 

o 


u 
I 

H 


u. 

3 
J 

n 


THE    ERIE    CANAL.  gl 

at,  and  his  manner  of  calking  his  own  deck  loudly  depreciated  in  his  presence.  All  was  borne  with 
toleration,  and  retorted  to  with  somewhat  uncouth  wit  but  with  good-will.  Profanity,  by-the-bye,  is 
the  commonest  sin  of  the  boatmen,  and  they  blaspheme  in  cold  blood,  without  the  enthusiasm  or 
scientific  precision  of  the  sailor,  and  without  the  idiomatic  richness  of  the  Californian." 

"  Before  nightfall  we  had  more  glimpses  of  perfect  rural  scenery :  level  miles  of  velvet-like  turf, 
in  superb  condition,  bounded  by  hills  of  the  gentlest  contours  ;  fields  of  strong  young  grain  curling 
and  singing  at  the  touch  of  the  evening  breeze  ;  neat  homes  hedged  in  with  greenery  ;  and  paths 
winding  toward  lovely  villages  in  the  hazy  distance.  The  landscape  is  too  calm  to  be  distinctively 
American  :  it  is  not  rugged,  and  the  colors  have  little  body.  Wells  of  light  seem  hidden  in  the 
foliage,  and  stream  out  at  every  crevice ;  it  is  surely  the  land  of  an  olden  country. 

"  Night  on  the  canal  has  the  enchantment  and  mystery  of  the  night  upon  the  ocean.  Cool 
breezes  sweep  over  us,  and  if  the  horizon  is  interrupted  at  all,  it  is  by  the  graceful  lines  of  some  hill 
that  holds  the  resplendent  tints  of  the  declining  sun,  and  lends  nobility  to  the  prospect.  As  the 
stars  gleam  out,  myriads  of  fire-flies  imitate  them  on  either  bank,  and  flash  across  the  calm  surface 
of  the  stream.  Each  boat  carries  a  brilliant  lantern  in  the  bow,  which  disperses  a  circle  of  yellow 
light  on  the  watery  track  ahead.  The  tow-lines  dip  occasionally  with  a  musical  thrill  into  the  water, 
and  in  advance  you  may  hear  the  steady  thud  of  the  horses'  hoofs  on  the  ground,  or  the  low  cry  of 
the  driver  as  he  urges  them  forward.  At  the  stern  the  helmsman  is  singing  in  a  plaintive  measure, 
until  a  lock  engages  him.  His  voice  is  then  deepened.  '  Lock  be-1-o-o-w ! '  he  calls  to  his  mate  ; 
'  Ste-a-dy,  ste-a-a-dy  ! '  to  the  driver.  There  is  a  momentary  clatter  of  feet  upon  the  deck  :  we  rise 
smoothly  to  the  new  level ;  the  lock  lights  fade  ;  quiet  again,  and  we  are  traveling  with  the  softness 
of  a  dream  toward  the  amber  morning." 

The  passage  of  the  Canal  .near  Little  Falls,  of  which  we  give  an  illustration,  under  the  lofty  bluff 
which  springs  at  this  place  from  the  edge  of  the  Mohawk,  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  many 
beautiful  features  disclosed  to  the  voyager  on  this  great  outlet  of  the  West.  No  traveler  sees  a 
greater  variety  of  fine  objects  within  the  same  distance  than  the  follower  of  the  Canal  from  Schenec- 
tady  to  Buffalo. 

For  a  long  time  the  introduction  of  steam  on  the  Canal  has  been  a  problem  over  which  many 
minds  have  cogitated.  The  agitation  for  cheap  transportation  which  has  of  late  convulsed  the  West, 
taken  in  connection  with  the  bids  that  other  Atlantic  cities  are  making  to  become  the  entrepot  for 
the  shipment  of  its  productions,  has  directed  much  attention  to  this  subject.  The  difficulty  has 
never  been  merely  in  the  use  of  steam,  for  propelling  boats,  but  in  the  necessity  for  competing  with 
horse-power  in  point  of  economy,  and  for  preventing  the  waves  from  washing  the  banks  of  the  Canal. 
The  State  offered  a  large  reward  for  the  invention  of  a  steam-engine  that  would  meet  these  two 
obstacles,  and  in  a  competitive  trial  during  the  Fall  of  1873,  Mr.  Wm.  Baxter  was  awarded  the  first 
prize.  The  official  record  of  the  trial  trip  marks  the  speed  of  the  Baxter  boat  at  3^  miles  per  hour 
with  a  consumption  of  14-^  pounds  of  coal  per  mile,  while  carrying  a  load  of  more  than  200  tons 
in  addition  to  her  machinery  and  fuel.  It  was  estimated  by  the  Commissioners  of  Award  that  the 
adoption  of  the  Baxter  boat  on  the  Canal  would  result  in  an  annual  saving  of  $4,000,000,  since 
freight  can  be  carried  at  twice  the  speed  for  one-half  the  cost  of  horse-boats.  This  is  considered  a 
solution  of  the  problem  of  steam  canal-boats,  and  vastly  enhances  the  importance  of  the  Canal  as  a 
part  of  our  system  of  internal  improvements. 

The  cities  of  Buffalo,  Rochester,  Syracuse,  Utica,  Rome,  Schenectady,  and  Albany,  are  on  the 
Erie  Canal,  and  almost  entirely  by  its  means  is  the  transportation  of  heavy  freight  and  grain  between 
these  cities  and  the  smaller  towns  on  the  line  accomplished.  One  of  these  long,  low  and  narrow 
canal-boats  will  contain  from  one  to  two  hundred  tons  of  freight ;  they  are  built  mainly  with  a  view 
to  strength,  and  owe  their  peculiar  shape  to  the  small  width  of  the  canal.  Syracuse  is  one  of  the 
principal  towns  on  the  Erie  Canal.  For  many  years  it  has  been  largely  engaged  in  the  manufacture 
of  salt,  and  the  Canal  has  greatly  helped  the  commercial  prosperity  of  the  city  in  furnishing  a  cheap 
medium  for  the  transportation  of  its  staple.  The  salt-works  at  Syracuse  are  comparatively  exten- 
sive, and  the  shipments  from  them  are  very  large.  Buffalo,  which  is  now  a  large  city,  was  not 
much  more  than  a  village  at  the  opening  of  the  Canal  in  1825.  Rochester,  Utica,  and  Syracuse  were 
insignificant  country  places,  while  a  host  of  the  minor  towns  that  now  lie  on  its  banks  were  not  in 
existence.  It  may,  in  truth,  be  safely  said  that  to  the  Erie  Canal  New  York  owes  much  of  the 
wealth  and  prosperity  which  she  to-day  enjoys. 


92  IN    THE  ADIRONDACKS. 

IN    THE    ADIRONDACKS. 

THE  Adirondack  wilderness  has  of  late  become  a  favorite  resort,  owing  to  its  proximity  to 
settled  communities  and  its  many  attractions  to  the  sportsman  and  tourist.  The  Adirondack 
region  or  North  Woods,  as  it  is  often  called,  lies  between  Lakes  George  and  Champlain  on  the 
east,  and  the  St.  Lawrence  river  on  the  north  and  west.  Its  area  is  about  equal  to  that  of  the 
State  of  Connecticut.  It  reaches  northward  to  the  boundaries  of  Canada,  and  southward  to  Boone- 
ville.  The  southern  part,  known  as  "  Brown's  Tract,"  is  the  least  interesting.  It  lacks  the  wild 
landscapes,  the  numerous  lakes,  and  the  lofty  mountains  of  the  northern  countries,  and  is  tame  in 
comparison.  The  real  wilderness,  above  the  Raquette  river,  is  as  primitive  and  natural  as  can  be 
imagined.  The  forests  are  immense  and  imposing  in  their  solitude.  The  axe  of  the  lumberman 
has  made  no  inroads  upon  them,  and  therefore,  the  vestiges  of  deserted  lumber  camps  do  not,  as  in 
the  Maine  forests,  interfere  with  the  picturesqueness  of  the  landscape.  The  air  is  clear  and  bracing, 
and  at  all  times  free  from  malaria.  An  artist  who  has  traveled  all  over  Switzerland,  and  through  the 
Rhine  and  Rhone  regions,  says  that  he  has  nowhere  found  scenery  which,  judged  from  a  purely 
artistic  point  of  view,  combines  so  many  beauties  with  so  much  grandeur.  It  is  estimated  that 
a  thousand  lakelets,  many  yet  unvisited,  are  'walled  in  by  these  vast  forests  of  pine  and  hemlock. 
The  Rev.  W.  H.  H.  Murray,  to  whose  enthusiastic  descriptions  the  Adirondacks  owe  much  of  their 
recently  acquired  celebrity,  counted,  from  the  summit  of  a  mountain,  forty-four  with  the  naked  eye. 

This  region  has  been  called  the  "  Sportsman's  Paradise,"  from  the  fact  that  most  of  the  sporting 
can  be  done  from  a  boat,  the  whole  country  being  intersected  by  a  chain,  or  to  speak  more  correctly, 
by  a  system  of  lakes.  It  is  not  necessary  to  undergo  long  and  tiresome  tramps  through  under- 
growth and  brambles,  over  swamps  and  morasses,  with  drooping  branches  to  flap  in  your  face(,  carry 
off  your  hat,  or  otherwise  try  your  patience  ;  but  you  glide  along  the  quiet  waters  of  the  lakes,  or 
paddle  along  the  windings  of  the  rivers,  overhung  by  the  outlying  pines,  and  fringed  with  water-lilies 
that  mingle  their  fragrance  with  the  clear  mountain  air.  You  save  your  strength  and  your  temper 
— and  these  are  very  important  considerations  to  amateur  sporting-men,  whose  chief  aim  is  health, 
recreation,  and  amusement. 

A  guide  is  indispensable  on  a  trip  into  the  wilderness,  and  much  of  the  tourist's  pleasure  depends 
upon  the  man  he  chooses.  So  many  people  now  make  annual  excursions  to  the  Adirondacks  that, 
in  the  height  of  the  season,  a  good  guide  is  difficult  to  obtain.  To  those  who  wish  to  camp  out, 
the  necessary  provisions  are  salt,  coffee,  sugar,  condensed  milk,  &c.  ;  enough  venison  and  trout 
can  be  obtained  in  the  wilderness  to  satisfy  all  wants.  The  favorite  season  for  these  excursions 
i.s  midsummer.  The  snow  has  then  melted  from  the  mountains,  and  the  climate  is  dry  and  delight- 
ful, the  thermometer  ranging  between  seventy  and  eighty  degrees  :  the  water  is  not  very  high,  and 
the  portages  are  in  good  condition. 

Game  of  the  larger  kind  is  plenty.  The  woods  are  so  unfrequented  that  the  deer  have  not  yet 
been  driven  away,  but  they  are  no  longer  to  be  seen  in  droves.  Trout  are  plenty  everywhere,  and 
at  times  the  water  seems  almost  alive  with  them.  It  is  also  said  that  amid  impenetrable  jungles  in 
the  most  secluded  districts  more  dangerous  inhabitants  are  still  established  in  their  hidden  lairs  : 
but  the  only  evidence  of  the  panther  having  frequented  these  mountains  must  be  looked  for  in  the 
stories  with  which  the  guides  beguile^  away 'the  hours  spent  around  the  camp-fire.  Black  bears  and 
wolves  are  still  numerous  in  certain  districts,  but  they  appear  to  have  concluded  a  permanent  truce 
with  visitors,  and  are  rarely  seen  on  the  banks  of  the  lakes,  even  during  the  depth  of  winter,  and 
their  chief  object  seems  to  be  to  escape  observation  and  molestation. 

The  extraordinary  number  of  mountains  (it  is  said  that  not  less  than  two  hundred  distinct  peaks 
can  be  counted)  are  the  true  glory  of  this  region.  To  quote  the  imagery  of  an  accomplished  writer 
to  whose  work  we  are  indebted  for  much  information,  "  they  are  so  compacted  that  their  bases  some- 
times touch.  So  wildly  disjointed  and  irregular  is  the  system  of  mountains,  it  stands  as  though  an 
ocean  tossed  by  tempest  had  been  suddenly  congealed,  and  these  strange  heights  had  in  ages  follow- 
ing become  clothed  and  in  their  right  mind."  Many  of  the  passes  between  these  mountains  have 
been  only  partially  explored,  but  if  the  present  yearly  accession  to  the  ranks  of  the  tourists  who  visit 
this  region  continues,  the  spirit  of  inquiry  and  adventure  thereby  necessarily  engendered  will  doubt- 
bss  cause  some  of  these  passes  to  become  as  famous  as  certain  portions  of  Switzerland. 


01 

Q 
J 


W 

X 
H 


94  IN    THE   ADIRONDACK'S. 

From  the  graphic  descriptiorTof  his  trip  on  the  lakes  given  by  S.  I.  Prime  in  his  admirable  book, 
Under  the  Trees,  we  subjoin  the  following.  Mr.  Prime  started  from  Paul  Smith's  Hotel,  passed 
through  Spitfire  Lake,  and  then,  after  traversing  a  narrow  passage,  reached  St.  Regis  Lake,  the 
upper.  "  This  is  nearly  on  the  summit  of  the  lake  region,  1,500  or  2,000  feet  above  the  sea,  its  waters 
flowing  off  to  the  north,  and  the  lakes  into  which  we  are  soon  to  come  discharging  themselves  east- 
ward, and  then  northeasterly  into  Lake  Champlain.  A  sense  of  exquisite  beauty  filled  me  as  the 
skiff  glided  gracefully  into  the  midst  of  this  lovely  sheet  of  water.  The  sun  was  now  well  up  in  the 
blue,  cloudless  sky.  Many  isles  lay  around  on  the  bosom  of  the  lake.  They  and  the  shores  were 
covered  with  dense  pine  and  spruce  trees.  The  water  was  like  a  polished  mirror  of  steel.  The 
islands  were  reflected.  So  was  the  heaven  above  me.  Sometimes  over  the  forest  shores  the  dis- 
tant ranges  of  mountains  told  me  there  was  a  world  beyond  and  out  of  the  limits  of  the  bowl  in 
which  I  was  floating.  But  the  lake  seemed  as  a  little  sea  of  glass,  clear  as  crystal,  brilliant  in  the 
sun,  skirted  with  living  green,  evergreen,  and  the  feeling  of  the  place  was  that  of  perfect  isolation 
from  '  the  world  and  the  rest  of  mankind.'  During  all  the  tour  of  these  and  three  or  four  lakes  yet 
to  be  mentioned,  I  did  not  see  a  boat  or  the  face  of  a  man,  or  anything  to  intimate  that  one  had  ever 
entered  this  charming  desert  before.  No  voice,  no  gun,  no  bark  of  a  dog  in  the  all-surrounding 
forest  disturbed  the  deep  serenity  of  the  scene.  Now  and  then  the  scream  of  a  loon,  fearfully  like  that 
of  a  human  cry,  would  pierce  the  ear  and  increase  the  stillness  as  it  ceased.  But  for  my  guide,  who 
happily  was  stupid  and  said  nothing,  I  was  the  only  man  there.  It  was  a  natural  paradise,  and  I  was 
as  solitary  as  Adam  before  Eve  appeared.  Charles  V.  said  of  the  cathedral  of  Burgos,  such  was  its 
beauty,  it  should  be  put  under  a  glass  case  and  kept  for  show.  It  was  almost  painful  to  me  that  the 
loveliness  of  this  scene  is  lost  to  the  world.  Why  is  such  a  waste  of  glory  here  ?  The  sun  shines 
on  nothing  more  charming  to  behold.  Here  it  lies,  and  the  summer  dies  away  into  winter ;  and 
then  the  spring  clothes  it  with  resurrection  beauty  again.  Perhaps  the  angels  see  it.  But  why  was 
so  much  glory  spilled  where  so  few  mortals,  out  of  millions,  ever  see  it  ? 

"  We  touched  the  southern  shore  of  the  lake  and  stood  in  the  margin  of  a  dense  forest,  appar- 
ently impenetrable,  certainly  gloomy,  damp,  and  cold.  Out  of  the  thicket  emerged  an  old  man,  in 
many-colored  and  patched  raiment,  with  long  and  matted  beard  and  hair,  who  was  not  far  above  his 
companions  of  the  woods,  and  this  queer  old  fellow  had  with  him  a  horse  and  a  sled.  Without 
words,  for  his  business  was  understood  by  the  guide,  who  knew  where  to  meet  him,  the  little  boat 
was  pulled  out  of  the  water  and  hoisted  upon  the  sled,  and  we  three  trudged  behind  it  as  the  beast 
drew  it  along  over  the  damp,  swampy  way  that  had  been  made  for  this  purp.se.  This  is  called  a 
'  carry.'  The  old  ferryman  proved  to  be  a  character,  a  Frenchman,  whose  first  name  was  Moses. 

"  At  the  door  of  the  cabin  of  Moses  the  Trapper  we  embarked  on  Big  Clear  Pond,  a  round  lake, 
with  no  islands  in  it,  and  four  miles  in  diameter.  The  wind  had  now  risen,  and  as  the  little  skiff 
danced  about  merrily,  my  dull  guide  sought  to  entertain  me  with  narrow  escapes  he  had  made  on 
former  excursions,  when  he  had  ladies  for  passengers,  who  had  been  frightened  greatly  on  this  very 
lake,  which  has  a  fine  sweep  for  the  wind,  and  easily  makes  a  great  swell." 

Of  the  Upper  Saranac  Mr.  Prime  says  :  "  This  is  the  queen  of  the  lakes.  It  is  nine  miles  long, 
with  irregular  shores,  wooded  points  putting  out  and  making  lovely  nooks  and  bays,  with  frequent 
isles  floating,  as  it  were,  on  the  surface.  Some  of  these  islands  have  traditions  hanging  around 
them,  and  one  of  them  will  be  pointed  out  for  years  to  come  as  the  scene  of  a 'tragical  event  that 
happened  upon  it  this  very  season.  At  the  close  of  a  very  fine  day  last  spring,  a  man  and  his  wife 
had  rowed  out  to  the  island,  and  were  sitting  near  the  shore  enjoying  the  sunset.  A  gentleman  out 
on  the  lake  with  his  guide  and  boat  espied  something  white  on  the  island,  and  the  guide  insisted 
that  it  was  a  loon.  The  gentleman  was  not  satisfied,  but  the  guide  took  his  rifle  and  fired,  killing 
the  woman  on  the  spot. 

"  A  map  of  this  wilderness  country  will  show  a  hundred  and  more  lakes  to  the  west  of  the  one 
we  are  now  passing  through,  and  weeks  as  easily  as  clays  might  be  spent  in  going  from  one  to  an- 
other ;  but  the  journey  would  become  tedious  perhaps  from  sameness.  Sweets  cloy.  This  chain  of 
lakes  is  '  linked  sweetness  long  drawn  out.'  It  is  a  system  of  lakes,  rather  than  a  chain.  Raquette 
Lake  is  the  largest  of  them  all,  with  a  shore  of  ninety  miles,  and  it  is  1,800  feet  above  the  sea,  and  the 
Blue  Mountain  rises  east  of  it  4,000  feet  high,  with  a  lake  of  the  same  name  at  its  foot,  esteemed 
the  Pearl  of  the  Wilderness.  Raquette  River  enters  Long  Lake,  sixteen  miles  long,  and  coming 
out  of  it,  is  navigable  for  thirty  miles,  and  then  enters  Tupper's  Lake,  more  celebrated  for  its  pic- 
turesque beauty  than  any  of  the  many  around  it.  When  the  river  leaves  this  lake  again,  it  rolls  its 


UPPER    AUSABLE     LAKE. 


96  IN    THE  ADIRONDACK'S. 

» 

augmented  volume  out  of  the  wilderness  into  the  fertile  fields  of  St.  Lawrence  County.  Thus  the 
whole  length  and  breadth  of  this  strange  country  may  be  traversed  by  boats  so  light  as  to  be  easily 
carried  on  the  shoulders  of  a  man." 

It  is  apparently  a  labor  of  love  to  describe  this  region,  and  this  is  what  the  Rev.  Murray  has  to 
say  of  it :  "  If  you  go  in  by  way  of  the  Saranacs,  do  not  camp  down  there,  as  some  do,  but  pass 
over  Indian  Carry  through  the  Spectacle  Lake  and  Ramshorn  Creek  (sometimes  called  Stony 
Creek),  into  the  Raquette  river.  Then  turn  up  or  down,  as  you  please.  If  you  desire  to  see  some 
of  the  finest  scenery  imaginable,  pass  up  the  Raquette  to  Long  Lake,  and  when  some  two  miles  up 
the  lake  turn  your  face  to  the  north,  and  you  will  behold  what  is  worth  the  entire  journey  to  see. 
Then  go  on  and  do  not  camp,  until  you  do  so  on  the  southern  or  western  shore  of  Raquette  Lake. 
Here  you  will  find  good  sporting  and  scenery  unsurpassed.  Build  here  your  central  camp,  and  as 
soon  as  you  are  established  go  over  to  what  is  called  the  Wood's  Place,  and  from  the  knoll  on  which 
the  house  stands,  you  will  see  one  of  the  finest  water-views  in  the  world.  Then  visit  Terrace  Lodge, 
on  an  island  to  the  front  and  left.  From  thence  paddle  to  Beaver  Bay,  and  you  will  find  a  point  in 
it  from  which  you  can  arouse  a  whole  family  of  sleeping  echoes  along  the  western  ridge  and  the 
woods  opposite.  Then  go  to  Constable  Point,  and  quench  your  thirst  in  the  coolest,  sweetest  spring 
of  pure  water,  from  which  you  ever  drank.  Go  next  to  the  southern  part  of  the  lake,  so  hidden 
behind  the  islands  that  no  one  would  suspect  what  a  lovely  sheet  of  water  lay  beyond,  with  its  two 
beautiful  reaches  of  softly  shining  sand,  one  as  white  as  silver,  the  other  as  yellow  as  gold  ;  and  in 
the  waters  which  lave  the  golden,  you  will  find  the  best  bathing  in  the  whole  wilderness.  Do  not 
leave  this  region  until  you  have  made  an  excursion  to  that  Lake  George  in  miniature,  Blue  Moun- 
tain Lake,  and  fill  your  mind  with  an  impression  which  will  remain  in  memory  as  one  of  the  sweet 
and  never-to-be-forgotten  recollections  of  life.  When  you  have  retraced  your  progress  up,  and 
reached  the  mouth  of  Ramshorn  Creek,  keep  on  down  the  Raquette  until  you  have  swung  round 
to  Big  Tupper  Lake,  and  stood  on  the  sloping  edge  over  which  the  outlet  of  Round  Lake  and  Little 
Tupper  pours  its  full  tide  in  thunder  and  foam  ;  and  if  it  be  not  too  late  in  the  season,  and  you 
know  how  to  use  the  rod,  you  will  raise,  amid  the  froth  and  eddies  of  the  falls,  some  of  the  largest 
and  brightest-looking  trout  that  ever  gladdened  a  sportsman's  eye.  Then,  if  you  are  robust  and  full 
of  pluck,  force  your  way  over  the  four-mile  carry  between  the  falls  and  Round  Lake,  and,  hurrying 
on  through  its  sluggish  waters,  do  not  pause  until  you  enter  the  narrow  secluded  stretch  of  Little 
Tupper.  As  you  pass  out,  visit  the  St.  Regis  waters,  by  the  way  of  Big  Wolf  and  Rollin's  Pond  and 
Long  Pine,  and  so  circle  down  to  Martin's." 

This  would  make  a  trip  that  would  take  in  all  the  beauties  of  the  Aclirondacks. 

The  feat  known  as  "  running  the  rapids  "  is  one  that  has  long  been  practiced  by  the  boatmen  of 
Canada  and  the  northern  part  of  the  United  States.  Rapids  are  so  numerous  in  the  smaller  of  the 
North  American  streams  that  if  boatmen  were  compelled  to  make  a  circuit  of  each  of  them,  a  voyage 
would  be  decidedly  laborious  ;  but  they  use  light  canoes  and  cedar  shells,  many  not  drawing  over 
two"  inches  of  water,  which  are  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  purpose,  and  with  these  they  "  run  the 
rapids."  The  rapids  of  the  Raquette  river  in  the  Adironclacks  are  three  miles  in  length,  and  so 
turbulent  that,  until  recently,  even  the  experienced  guides  would  not  go  over  them.  It  is  a  stretch 
of  madly-rushing  water,  save  where,  at  the  foot  of  some  perpendicular  fall,  there  is  a  "gool"  stud- 
ded with  bubbles,  and  necked  with  patches  of  froth.  The  river  is  full  of  boulders,  among  which  the 
water  glides  smooth  and  deep,  or  it"  dashes  with  foaming  violence  against  them.  At  various  places 
the  river  with  great  swiftness  shoots  down  steep  declivities,  and  at  others  pours  over  perpen- 
dicular falls.  But  these  waters  were  safely  run  by  Mr.  Murray,  who  strapped  his  rifle,  rod,  and 
baggage  to  the  bottom  and  sides  of  his  boat,  and  prepared  everything  so  that,  in  case  of  catastrophe, 
he  could  swim  ashore,  and  let  his  baggage  follow  him. 

Nearly  every  one,  no  matter  how  little  of  a  sportsman  he  may  be,  knows  that  deer  traverse  the 
native  forest  through  what  are  called  "  runs."  These  natural"  pathways,  hardly  perceptible  to  un- 
sophisticated city  people,  are  well  known  to  all  the  hunters  and  guides,  and  always  lead  to  water,  to 
which  the  instinct  of  the  deer  causes  it  to  fly  whenever  alarmed.  This  propensity  is  a  fatal  mistake 
where  deer-shooting  is  pursued  in  the  methodical  manner  which  prevails  in  the  Adirondacks  : 

"  The  brave,  hardy,  eager  gentlemen  from  New  York  and  other  cities  are  now  prepared  to  go  out 
the  next  morning  to  renew  the  chase.  They  go  two  or  three  times  a  week,  and  as  the  hunt  is 
attended  with  great  expense,  exposure,  and  fatigue,  and  many  arc  to  share  in  it,  it  is  just  that  each 
should  have  a  fair  chance  to  bag  the  game  and  glory  of  the  day.  The  shore  of  the  lake  is  laid  off 


h 
I 
0 

Z 

h 


0 
Id 

oc 


0) 

a 


z 
o 

05 
H 

u 

Q 


93  IN    THE  ADIRONDACKS.    • 

into  sections,  and  each  section  has  its  point  of  observation.  These  points  are  a  considerable  dis- 
tance asunder,  and  lots  are  drawn  by  which  the  station  of  each  one  going  to  join  the  hunt  is  deter- 
mined. This  allotment  is  made  overnight,  that  when  early  morning  comes,  each  brave  deer-slayer 
repairs  to  his  post,  and  with  all  the  patience  he  may  possess  awaits  the  issue.  With  him,  in  a  light 
boat,  is  the  guide,  who"  rows  and  knows  the  spot  to  which  his  man  is  assigned.  The  boat  soon 
reaches  the  point,  and  nothing  is  to  be  done  but  to  wait,  in  it  or  on  the  shore,  as  the  wary  and 
anxious  sportsman  pleases.  Thus  the  lake  is  environed  with  the  watchful  picket  guardsmen. 

"  In  the  mean  time  a  real  huntsman — a  paid  and  experienced  man  of  the  woods — enters  the 
forest,  with  a  leash  of  hounds,  some  six  or  eight,  attached  to  his  belt.  Well  in,  he  lets  off  a  dog, 
trained  to  the  service  and  eager  to  have  a  run,  who  begins  at  once  to  run  in  a  circle,  widening  con- 
stantly as  he  seeks  to  get  upon  the  trail  of  a  deer.  The  hunter  goes  on  and  lets  off  another  dog, 
and  then  another,  until  he  has  started  his  whole  pack,  who,  running  in  circles,  scour  the  whole 
forest,  and  seldom  fail  to  scare  up  a  buck.  The  moment  the  dog  strikes  the  scent  he  begins  to  bark, 
and  the  glad  sound  meets  the  distant  ears  of  the  waiting  watchers  on  the  lake.  The  deer,  alarmed, 
instinctively  takes  to  the  water,  as  the  only  way  to  break  the  trail  and  deprive  the  dog  of  his  scent, 
by  which  he  is  keeping  up  the  chase.  The  noble  animal  rushes  through  the  forest  into  the  lake  to 
swim  across.  He  is  the  prize  of  the  boat  nearest  to  which  he  takes  the  water.  The  guide  rows  in 
pursuit  of  him,  and  being  able  to  row  far  more  rapidly  than  the  poor  beast  can  swim,  has  no  diffi- 
culty in  overtaking  him.  When  he  has  come  so  near  that  the  merest  bungler  with  a  gun,  who  could 
not  hit  a  barn  door  across  the  road,  can  now  put  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  into  the  ear  of  the  animal,  if 
he  please,  the  gallant  Nimrod  blazes  away  with  his  new  rifle,  lodges  the  bullet  in  the  brain  of  the 
beast,  and  the  work  is  done.  If  the  deer,  however,  will  not  keep  still  long  enough  to  be  shot  in  this 
way,  the  guide  takes  him  by  the  tail  and  holds  him  while  the  accomplished  sportsman  shoots  him  in 
the  head.  It  sometimes  occurs  that  even  then,  with  the  buck  thus  held  by  the  tail  at  one  end  and 
the  rifle  in  the  hands  of  an  excited  shooter  at  another,  the  ball  goes  all  abroad  and  the  game  is  not 
hurt.  Then  the  guide,  with  an  oar  or  with  his  own  stalwart  arms,  manages  to  get  the  animal's  head 
under  water,  and  so  drowns  him.  But  in  the  best  of  the  business,  it  requires  the  same  amount 
of  science,  skill,  valor,  and  endurance  to  kill  a  deer,  that  it  would  to  go  out  to  the  barn  and  kill  the 
cow.  Give  the  cow  the  run  of  the  yard,  and  it  would  be  more  of  a  feat  to  bring  her  down  with  a 
rifle  than  to  slay  a  deer  in  the  Adirondacks." 

The  annoyance  from  insects  is  considerable,  but  even  this  has  been  greatly  exaggerated.  The 
"  black  fly,"  a  small  dark-colored  fly  about  the  size  of  a  red  ant,  is  plentiful  during  the  earlier  months 
of  the  summer,  but  disappears  in  July.  Its  bite,  though  annoying,  is  not  poisonous,  and  abundant 
protection  may  be  found  against  it.  Mosquitoes  and  gnats  are  also  numerous  in  some  localities,  but 
if  care  is  taken  in  the  selection  of  the  camps,  they  will  not  be  very  troublesome.  A  headland  or  a 
point  over  the  lake,  where  the  wind  is  felt,  or  an  island,  is  the  best  ground  for  camping,  so  far  as 
insects  are  concerned ;  but  under  any  circumstances  it  is  a  trifling  drawback  to  the  healthfulness 
and  enjoyment  of  life  in  the  woods.  The  climate  is  here  so  genial  and  constant,  and  the  air  is  so 
clear  and  balmy  that  even  people  in  the  most  delicate  health  may  "camp  out"  without  risk.  The 
atmosphere  is  odorous  with  pine  and  cedar  and  balsam,  and  free  from  all  impurities.  Nevertheless, 
the  most  intelligent  opinion  is  that  these  solitudes  are  not  good  places  for  those  unfortunates  to  visit 
who  are  afflicted  with  consumption :  but  as  a  place  to  recuperate  from  the  insidious  diseases  that 
arise  from  a  too  intense  application  to  sedentary  pursuits,  this  district  is  generally  conceded  to  be 
without  a  rival.  Those  of  good  physical  strength,  but  worn  down"  with  brain  work,  recruit  with  a 
rapidity  which  can  only  be  described  as  being  little  short  of  marvelous.  Scarcely  any  physical  exer- 
tion is  required  on  the  trip.  Walking  is  unnecessary  during  the  hunting,  fishing,  and  sight-seeing, 
all  that  being  done  from  the  boats  ;  and  the  visitor  is  reduced  to  ped,estrianism  only  when  going  and 
coming  across  the  "  carries,"  which,  in  the  parts  most  frequented,  are  generally  short,  and  with  few 
exceptions,  afford  good  walking  ground.  There  are  some  parts,  it  is  true,  where  no  ease-loving 
tourist  dare  venture— places  where  the  portages  are  mere  swamps,  and  the  boat  and  traps  must  be 
dragged  or  carried,  while  the  hardy  adventurer  is  waist-deep  in  mud  and  water.  But  guides  have 
no  particular  love  for  such  localities,  and,  unless  otherwise  expressly  directed,  will  keep  at  a  respect- 
ful distance  from  them. 


THE    WONDERS   OF    THE   COLORADO   RIVER.  99 


THE  WONDERS  OF  THE  COLORADO  RIVER. 

FORMED  in  the  southwestern  part  of  Utah  by  the  union  of  the  Green  River  with  the  Grand, 
the  Colorado  rolls  southward  through  a  part  of  Arizona,  into  the  Gulf  of  California.  There 
are  few  streams  in  the  world  which  are  so  extraordinary  in  their  formation,  and  so  singular  in  their 
history  and  reputation,  or  which  are  characterized  by  natural  scenery  at  once  so  peculiar  and  so 
sublime. 

Although  the  river,  measured  from  the  source  of  the  Green,  is  nearly  two  thousand  miles  long, 
and  is  the  largest  American  tributary  of  the  Pacific,  two  causes  render  it  to  a  great  extent  un- 
navigable,  and  will  undoubtedly  keep  it  so  forever.  The  first  is  its  excessive  decrease  in  volume 
during  the  dry  season  ;  the  other  is  the  formation  of  its  bed,  by  which  a  thousand  impassable  bar- 
riers are  presented  to  the  navigator.  The  stream  is  marked  in  many  places  for  long  distances  by 
a  succession  of  rapids  of  extraordinary  violence  and  forbidding  hazards,  and  these  alternate  in  end- 
less variety  with  cataracts,  whirlpools,  and  powerful  eddies.  At  one  point,  the  stream  has  cut  its 
way  by  the  wear  of  ages  through  a  jutting  angle  of  solid  rock,  and  is  sucked  with  irresistible  force 
through  its  new  channel ;  at  another,  it  rushes  along  a  declivity  as  steep  as  a  house-top  with  the 
speed  of  a  locomotive.  In  some  places  the  river  is  impassable  even  to  the  smallest  boats ;  as  for 
craft  of  a  greater  size,  it  is  altogether  useless  to  think  of  making  any  headway  with  that.  Below 
these  obstructions  there  is  to  the  mouth  of  the  river  an  unimpeded  distance  of  over  six  hundred 
miles,  and  this  during  certain  seasons  can  be  traversed  by  steam  ;  but  when  the  water  has  fallen, 
large  vessels  can  get  no  further  than  thirty-five  miles  from  the  outlet. 

But  what  is  most  remarkable  about  the  Colorado  and  its  tributaries,  is  the  extraordinary  charac- 
ter of  its  rocky  banks — its  canons.  These  impart  to  it  the  unparalleled  scenery  for  which  it  is 
famous,  and  make  it  a  stream  like  which  there  is  no  other.  These  canons  are  over  five  hundred 
miles  long,  the  Grand  Canon  being  alone  over  two  hundred. 

The  canon  is  a  frequent  physical  feature  of  the  Pacific  and  southwestern  regions  of  the  United 
States.  It  is  simply  a  deep  ravine  or  gulch — an  extended  fissure  in  the  earth — and  is  peculiar  only 
in  respect  to  great  magnitude  and  imposing  aspect.  Canons  of  enormous  depth  are  found  in  the 
vicinity  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  some  of  the  greatest  are  within  view  of  the  cars  of  the 
Overland  railroad.  But  there  are  certainly  none  more  marvelous,  in  all  respects  more  profoundly 
impressive,  than  of  the  Colorado. 

In  these  mountain  passes  the  river  takes  its  course  between  perpendicular  banks  of  solid  rock 
that  rise  to  a  stupendous  height.  We  seem  to  be  in  the  very  heart  of  the  earth.  On  the  black 
waters  flowing  between  their  mighty  walls  there  is  profoundest  gloom.  An  unearthly  chill,  an  inex- 
plicable dread,  seizes  upon  the  adventurous  travelers  floating  on  those  dark  tides.  Perhaps  the 
silence  of  the  grave  is  about  them,  or  perhaps  to  their  ears  is  borne  from  the  mysterious  unknown 
ahead,  shut  out  from  their  view  by  the  cliffs  that  hem  them  in,  the  roar  of  an  untried  cataract  or  a 
tumultuous  rapid.  As  high  as  they  can  lift  their  eyes  only  the  perpendicular  face  of  rock,  seamed 
by  many  varied  geological  strata  ;  and  straight  overhead  like  a  blue  ribbon  suspended  far,  far  above 
them,  a  narrow  strip  of  sky. 

From  the  giddy  height  above,  the  spectacle  has  not  less  of  awful  sublimity.  Looking  down  upon 
the  stream  below,  it  is  like  a  band  of  silver  barely  a  foot  wide  laid  along  the  bottom  of  the  profound 
chasm  ;  or  if-  at  night,  with  the  moon's  rays  falling  between  the  rocky  walls,  the  whole  abyss  may  be 
aglow,  and  a  vein  of  golden  splendor  seam  the  earth.  • 

One  of  the  most  impressive  of  these  canons  is  represented  in  our  illustration.  Our  two  minor 
illustrations  give  views  of  Moqui,  one  of  the  stone  cities  of  Arizona,  inhabited  by  the  Pueblos  or 
Moquis  Indians.  This  tribe  is  by  some  supposed  to  be  descended  from  the  Aztecs,  or  from  their 
predecessors  the  Toltecs  ;  but  whatever  their  origin,  their  stone  towns  are  certainly  unique,  and 
like  their  religious  and  social  customs  and  their  national  or,  rather,  tribal  character,  are  of  much 
interest.  These  towns  are  built  upon  commanding  eminences  overlooking  the  Colorado  River, 
and  can  be  approached  only  through  narrow  defiles  in  the  rocks  on  which  they  stand.  The  houses 
are  of  mud  and  stone,  two  and  three  stories  high.  They  are  entered  by  ladders  reaching  to  the 
second  story,  and  when  these  temporary  stairways  are  drawn  up,  as  they  are  made  to  be,  each 
dwelling  becomes  in  truth  a  castle,  and  a  strong  one  at  that,  as  was  conclusively  shown  during 


10o  THE   WONDERS    OF    THE   COLORADO    Rll'ER. 

'he  Mexican  war,  it  being  then  found  that  they  were  proof  against  field-artillery.  It  is  supposed  that 
their  former  inhabitants  were  a  quiet,  industrious,  agricultural  people,  wtio  built  these  curious 
dwelling-places  for  protection  against  wandering  tribes  of  savages.  Traces  of  their  existence  are 
found  not  only  along  the  Colorado,  but  all  over  that  region,  in  pottery,  fallen  houses  of  stone  and 
adobe,  and  curious  hieroglyphics. 

Many  of  the  stone  cities  are  without  populations,  like  many  of  the  stone  houses.  They  are  fallen 
and  deserted  relics  of  a  once  numerous  people — perhaps  of  a  civilization.  Of  the  seven  inhabited 
towns  the  average  population  is  about  three  hundred  each.  Each  town  has  its  own  chief,  and 
is  entirely  independent  of  the  others;  but  the  people  are  all  well-acquainted  with  each  other, 
issociate,  and  have  the  same  religious  faith  and  social  customs.  They  are  peaceable  and  hospi- 
table, though  not  free  from  some  habits  which  are  natural  to  the  savage  the  world  over.  Their 
•eligious  belief  is  very  remarkable,  considering  their  location.  Every  morning  they  mount  the  roofs 
)f  their  houses,  and  turning  eastward,  render  homage  to  the  rising  sun.  At  the  same  time  a 
iiumber  of  men,  girdled  with  strings  of  bells,  start  off  toward  the  East,  and  run  a  mile  or  so  at  full 
speed,  while  their  bells  fill  the  air  with  a  wild  jingling  ;  then  they  return,  the  people  on  the  house- 
tops come  down,  and  the  uproar  ceases.  The  reason  for  this  curious  usage  is  a  tradition  which  is 
extant  among  them,  that  on  some  future  day  Montezuma  will  come  to  them  from  the  sun,  and 
restore  their  ancient  glory.  They,  therefore,  send  out  an  escort  every  day  to  receive  him,  should 
he  happen  to  make  his  appearance.  Not  less  singular  is  their  belief  that  the  time  of  their  restora- 
tion depends  upon  the  condition  of  their  habitations  ;  and  the  sooner  the  latter  have  fallen  into 
utter  natural  decay,  the  sooner  will  the  former  arrive.  Thus  it  comes  to  be  a  part  of  their  religion 
to  let  everything  go  to  rack  and  ruin.  They  are  even  said  to  have  refused  aid  from  the  United 
States  Government. 

One  curious  legend  that  is  said  to  be  extant  among  them  is  related  in  this  wise  :  "  In  times  long 
past  a  woman  of  superior  beauty  resided  among  the  neighboring  mountains.  All  the  men  admired 
and  paid  court  to  her.  She  received  the  tributes  of  their  devotion,  grain,  skins,  etc.,  but  gave  no 
favors  in  return.  Her  virtue  and  her  determination  to  remain  secluded  were  equally  firm.  There 
came  a  drought  which  threatened  famine.  In  their  distress  the  people  applied  to  her,  and  she  gave 
them  corn  from  her  stock,  and  the  supply  seemed  to  be  endless.  Her  goodness  was  unbounded. 
One  day,  as  she  was  lying  asleep,  a  drop  of  rain  fell  upon  her,  and  produced  conception.  A  son 
was  the  issue,  who  became  the  founder  of  the  race  that  built  these  cities  of  stone."  In  Oribay,  one 
of  the  seven  towns,  an  old  woman  is  still  said  to  be  living  that  has  the  blood  of  this  marvelous  being 
in  her  veins,  and  like  her  progenitor,  was  once  possessed  of  wonderful  beauty.  She  receives  general 
reverence. 

The  town  of  Moqui  which  is  represented  in  our  illustrations,  is  situated  on  a  cliff  that  is  at  least 
fifteen  hundred  feet  high.  The  top  of  the  cliff  is  wedge-shaped,  half  a  mile  long,  and  at  its  widest 
part  perhaps  two  hundred  yards  across.  On  the  same  rock  are  two  others  of  the  stone  cities.  Water 
is  obtained  from  reservoirs  that  have  been  hollowed  out  in  the  surface  of  the  rock  ;  but  these  are 
sometimes  exhausted,  and  it  then  becomes  necessary  to  go  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff. 

These  strange  Indian  cities  are  certainly  of  sufficient  interest  to  be  mentioned  even  in  connec- 
tion with  the  wonderful  Colorado.  So  different  are  the  Moquis  in  their  customs,  character,  desires, 
and  belief  from  the  other  Indian  tribes  of  that  vicinity,  that  a  totally  different  origin  is  almost  neces- 
sarily inferred.  It  is  true  that  their  descent  from  the  Aztecs  or  the  Toltecs  is  not  fully  established, 
but  it  is  certain  that  in  their  habitations,  in  their  modes  of  life,  and  in  their  traditions  there  is  much 
to  make  such  a  hypothesis  probable.  And  here  they  live  on  the  bluffs  overlooking  the  Colorado,  in 
their  decaying  cities,  a  dying  people,  and  the  nearer  they  come  to  their  extinction,  the  nearer  believ- 
ing the  advent  of  their  redeemer  to  be,  and  their  restoration  to  national  power  and  glory. 

The  Moquis  cities  were  visited  in  1871  by  Mr.  E.  O.  Beaman,  a  member  of  the  expedition  that 
explored  the  Colorado  in  that  year.  The  experiences  of  this  expedition  are  full  of  vivid  interest. 
For  a  long  time  the  Colorado,  as  well  as  the  Green  River  which  helps  to  form  it,  had  been  the  sub- 
ject of  the  most  marvelous  stories.  In  the  sixteenth  century  a  Mexican  exploring  party  reported 
the  discovery  of  a  river  with  banks  so  steep  they  could  not  be  scaled  or  descended,  and  nine  miles 
high.  About  one  hundred  years  ago  a  Spanish  priest,  who  had  visited  the  Colorado,  writes  that  the 
banks  were  so  high  that  "  a  rock  which,  when  lying  in  the  river  and  seen  from  the  cliff,  appeared  no 
larger  than  a  man's  hand,  was  found  to  be,  at  the  water's  level,  as  large  as  the  cathedral  at  Seville." 
Hunters  and  miners  occasionally  contributed  to  swell  still  more  these  exaggerated  reports  by  ac- 


THE    WONDERS   OF    THE   COLORADO   RIVER. 


101 


counts  of  their  own  hair-breadth  escapes  and  severe  sufferings  when  lost  amid  the  rocky  fastnesses 
that  enclose  these  streams.  In  1867,  James  White  and  Henry  Strole,  two  gold-seekers,  finding 
themselves  in  a  country  beset  by  hostile  Indians,  constructed  a  raft,  and  descended  the  Colorado 
from  a  point  on  the  Grand,  about  thirty  miles  above  its  junction  with  the  Green,  preferring  to  en- 
counter the  unknown  perils  of  that  voyage  rather  than  the  known  danger  of  discovery  by  the  red- 
skins. They  had  been  only  four  days  under  way  when  Strole  was  drowned.  White  then  continued 


Distant  View  of  Moqui,  with  Sheep-pens  in  the  Foreground. 

the  voyage,  and  succeeded  in  reaching  Callville,  but  only  after  ten  days  of  the  greatest  hardship  and 
deprivation.     His  experiences  form  a  thrilling  narrative. 

In  1869  a  Government  expedition  was  fitted  out  under  command  of  Major  J.  W.  Powell  for  the 
exploration  of  the  Canons  of  the  Colorado.  They  reached  Callville  after  many  striking  adventures  ; 
but  not  satisfied  with  the  results  of  their  labors,  a  second  expedition  was  fitted  out — also  under  com- 
mand of  Major  Powell — with  the  purpose  of  exploring  not  only  the  river,  but  the  whole  valley  of  the 
Colorado.  Beginning  at  the  point  where  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  crosses  the  Green  River,  they 


102  nil-:  U'OXDURS  OF  THE  COLORADO  RITER. 

have  already  explored  a  distance  of  one  thousand  miles  to  the  end  of  the  Grand  Canon  ;  but  the 
expedition  is  not  yet  at  an  end.  To  complete  their  surveys  it  is  supposed  will  require  until  the  latter 
part  of  1875. 

The  expedition  was  organized  at  Green  River  City,  Wyoming  Territory,  in  May,  1871,  the  party 
consisting  of  various  scientific  men  and  artists;  among  them  the  Mr.  Beaman  before-mentioned,  who 
was  a  photographer  from  New  York.  The  boats  were  three  in  number,  properly  provided  with 
water-tight  compartments  and  with  other  equipments  stowed  away  in  rubber  sacks,  the  outfit  being 
calculated  to  be  sufficient  for  a  year  and  a  half.  They  descended  the  Green  River  to  the  Colorado, 
and  then  the  latter  stream,  traversing  a  distance  of  six  hundred  miles,  in  which  there  was  hot  less 
than  four  hundred  rapids,  by  the  22d  day  of  the  succeeding  October,  at  which  time  they  went  into 
winter-quarters.  They  had  prepared  themselves  for  encountering  the  greatest  perils  and  hardships, 
nor  were  they  much  mistaken  in  their  anticipations. 

On  the  2d  of  June,  writes  Mr.  Beaman,  they  ran  four  very  difficult  rapids  in  going  one  mile, 
and  were  then  forced  to  land  and  bail  out  the  boats  which  were  nearly  full  of  water. 

"  After  making  everything  secure  again  " — we  quote  from  Mr.  Beaman's  journal — "  we  started 
out,  and  soon  came  to  a  very  sudden  bend  in  the  river.  The  water,  having  worn  a  passage  far  under 
the  rocks,  sucked  everything  into  it  like  a  whirlpool.  In  passing  the  corner  the  Nellie  Powell  (one 
of  the  boats)  was  drawn  under  by  thist  mighty  current  force,  and  capsized.  The  crew  narrowly 
escaped  drowning,  but  managed  to  reach  the  shore  without  great  damage.  * 

"  The  Emma  Dean  also  struck  the  wall,  and  carried  away  a  rowlock  ;  but  the  Canonita  rounded 
the  turn  successfully.  One  mile  further  on  we  passed  four  fearful  rapids,  through 

which  the  boats  plunged  at  a  terrific  rate,  each  nearly  filling  with  water.  The  walls  of  rock  are 
closing  in  as  if  to  immure  us  in  a  monster  tomb,  and  a  certain  terror  fastens  on  a  man's  vitals  as  the 
grim  shadows  deepen,  while  yet  life  itself  appears  not  to  fascinate  as  does  that  unknown  water-track 
beckoning  us  on. 

"  Camped  at  1 1  A.M.  for  dinner,  amid  the  most  awful  solitude  we  could  imagine,  the  walls  of  the 
canon  rising  on  either  side  to  the  height  of  two  thousand  feet.  Pulled  out  again  at  i  P.M.;  found  the 
river  very  rough.  Ran  one  mile,  shipping  large  quantities  of  water.  °  *  The  current  of  the 

river  is  very  swift  here,  running  upward  of  twenty  miles  an  hour." 

June  5th  he  writes :  "  The  day  has  been  full  of  excitement,  not  unaccompanied  by  clanger,  for 
we  have  run  twenty  fearful  rapids  in  coming  six  miles.  Imagination  cannot  create  an  enjoyment  so 
full  of  nervous  dread  and  daring  as  the  dash  through  these  rapids  at  the  rate  of  thirty  miles  an  hour. 

"Arrived  at  Ashley  Falls  at  3  P.M.  Here  it  was  thought  best  that  a  'genuine  portage'  should 
be  made.  The  boats  were  accordingly  unloaded,  and  two  of  them  lifted  over  the  cliff,  a  height  of 
fifty  feet,  carried  about  a  hundred  yards,  and  then  lowered  into  the  river  again  at  the  foot  of  the  falls. 
The  Canonita  we  decided  to  let  go  '  by  the  run,'  which  she  did  in  fine  style,  coming  out  like  a  duck 
from  the  combing  wave." 

Later  in  the  same  month  two  of  the  party  left  the  boats  to  take  a  measurement  of  certain  carbon- 
iferous cliffs  that  attracted  their  attention.  Having  reached  the  summit  of  a  rocky  height  on  the 
riwer's  edge,  and  wishing  to  descend  on  a  side  opposite  to  that  by  which  they  had  come,  they  looked 
for  some  spot  at  which  they  might  find  a  grade  sufficiently  easy.  They  proceeded  for  two  miles,  the 
sides  of  the  cliff  for  all  that  distance  being  perpendicular  for  the  first  two  hundred  feet  downward. 
As  they  proceeded,  they  rose  higher  and  higher,  until  at  last  they  were  on  the  highest  part  of  the 
canon-walls,  two  thousand  five  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the  river.  Here  they  found  a  dan- 
gerous pass  which  they  tried  to  descend,  but  after  traversing  the  slope  for  fifteen  hundred  feet,  they 
found  the  descent  suddenly  changed  to  a  perpendicular  for  the  next  thousand  feet.  They  were  by 
this  time  suffering  the  pangs  of  thirst  ;  it  was  also  growing  fate,  and  they  had  no  time  to  lose,  if 
they  would  not  be  overtaken  by  night  amid  these  pitiless  rocks.  They  finally  contrived  to  reach  the 
river,  but  it  was  then  nearly  sunset,  and  they  had  accomplished-  nothing.  There  was  nothing  left 
but  to  return  to  camp  by  the  easiest  and  shortest  way.  The  route  by  which  they  had  come  was 
much  too  wearisome  and  difficult,  and  so  they  looked  about  for  some  other.  They  found  one  that 
seemed  promising,  but  after  a  most  painful  and  hazardous  ascent  of  eighteen  hundred  feet,  they 
found  their  further  progress  prevented  by  a  blank  wall  two  hundred  feet  high.  They  had  no  choice 
but  to  return  to  the  river  the  way  they  had  come.  Here  they  endeavored  to  follow  the  course  of  the 
river  back  to  camp,  "  through  thorny  underbrush  and  rose-briers,  over  cragged  rocks,  through  mud, 
and  often  waist-deep  in  the  water,  with  bleeding  hands  and  exhausted  frames."  At  ten  o'clock  even 


THE    WONDERS  OF    THE   COLORADO  RIVER. 


103 


this  toilsome  march  was  brought  to  a  stop  by  a  jutting  cliff  that  cut  off  all  further  progress.  For- 
tunately it  was  a  bright  moonlight  night,  and  presently  finding  a  dry  cedar  stump,  they  floated  out 
into  the  stream  with  it,  hoping  to  reach  camp  in  that  way. 

"  For  a  short  distance  they  floated  admirably  ;  but,  just  as  they  were  beginning  to  congratulate 
each  other  upon  the  success  of  the  undertaking,  a  roar  like  that  of  a  rapid  fell  upon  their  ears.  They 
knew  there  was  no  rapid  at  that  point,  having  passed  if  a  few  clays  before  ;  hence  what  new  danger 
nenaced  them  ?  Their  anxiety,  however,  was  soon  too  well  justified.  A  salient  angle  in  the  wall 


Another  View  of  Moqui. 


jutted  sharply  into  the  current,  causing  a  whirlpool  which  they  were  too  near  to  avoid.  Clem  was 
not  a  good  swimmer  ;  and,  as  they  neared  the  pool,  Mr.  Steward  became  aware  that,  while  the  cedar- 
stub  might  carry  one  person  through,  two  trusting  to  it  must  be  lost ;  so,  when  warned  by  the  in- 
creasing suction  that  the  time  had  come,  he  loosed  his  hold  on  the  frail  support,  and  trusted  to  God 
and  his  own  muscle.  The  whirling  waters  seized  him,  and  carried  him — how  far  under  he  knew  not ; 
but,  struggling  against  the  terrible  force,  he  struck  for  the  surface.  Several  times  he  came  so  near 
as  to  see  a  faint  line  of  light,  and  as  many  times  was  drawn  under  again." 

Finally,  as  he  was  on  the  point  of  succumbing,  he  found  himself  beyond  the  reach  of  the  whirl- 
ing waves,  and  striking  out   feebly,  reached  the  surface   in  quiet  water.     A  little  below  he  saw  his 


104  THE   WONDERS   OF    THE   COLORADO,  RIVER. 

companion,  the  cedar-stub  having  carried  him  safely  through.  He  reached  this  frail  support  with 
much  difficulty,  and  the  two  soon  afterward  arrived  safely  in  camp.  But  they  had  canon  experience 
enough  for  one  day. 

Of  all  the  canons  on  the  Green  and  the  Colorado,  the  Grand  Canon  is  in  every  respect  the  largest. 
It  is  over  two  hundred  miles  long,  and  varies  in  depth  from  four  thousand  to  seven  thousand  feet. 
The  stream  is  here  from  fifty  to  five  hundred  feet  wide,  and  the  descent  is  in  some  places  as  much 
as  two  hundred  feet  to  the  mile.  Below  the  Grand  is  the  Black  Canon,  which  is  twenty-five  miles 
long,  with  banks  from  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  feet  high.  Horseshoe  Caflon  is  on  the  Green 
River,  and  is  so  named  from  its  resemblance  to  a  horseshoe.  The  walls  are  of  red  and  yellow  sand- 
stone, perpendicular,  and  two  thousand  feet  high.  At  this  place  there  is  a  dangerous  rapid,  immense 
boulders  cleaving  the  stream.  The  current  flows  at  the  rate  of  twenty  miles  an  hour,  and  the  waves 
dash  wildly  six  and  eight  feet  high.  Red  Canon  is  below  the  Horseshoe,  and  is  so  named  from  the 
brilliant  color  of  its  walls.  Lower  down  still  is  Swallow  Canon,  in  which,  for  a  distance  of  two  miles, 
the  walls  are  lined  on  both  sides  of  the  river  with  myriads  of  swallows'  nests. 

Among  the  most  sublime  of  the  canons  on  the  Green  River  is  the  Canon  of  Lodore,  named 
from  Southey's  poem,  "  How  do  the  Waters  come  down  at  Lodore?"  "This  canon,"  writes  Mr. 
Beaman,  "  is  very  narrow  at  its  entrance,  being  only  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  wide.  The 
walls,  almost  perpendicular,  rise  to  the  height  of  two  thousand  feet,  and,  like  the  Red  Canon,  are 
composed  of  brilliant  red  sandstone,  mottled  and  rainbow-hued.  Occasionally  a  green  cedar  or 
mountain  pine  is  seen  clinging  to  its  sides,  adding  a  picturesque  beauty  to  the  place.  As  we  de- 
scended the  river,  which  at  this  point  falls  one  hundred  feet  to  the  mile,  the  walls  rose  higher  and 
higher,  until  at  the  head  of  Disaster  Falls,  fifteen  miles  further  down,  they  attained  an  altitude  of 
three  thousand  feet.  Thus  shut  in  by  vertical  walls,  there  was  no  alternative — had  we  wished  it — 
but  to  go  on.  Accordingly  on  the  approach  of  night  we  hauled  our  boats  close  into  the  shelving 
rocks,  and  prepared  to  fortify  by  rest  for  the  running  of  the  most  noted  and  dangerous  rapids  on  the 
morrow.  It  was  here  that,  in  1869,  Major  Powell  lost  a  boat,  and  nearly  her  crew.  In  1850,  a  party 
of  six  trappers,  having  accumulated  a  large  quantity  of  furs  at  Brown's  Hole,  constructed  a  raft  of 
three  '  degouts '  tied  together,  on  which  they  intended  floating  down  to  the  Gulf  of  California.  Brave, 
reckless,  and  probably  not  realizing  the  appalling  dangers  before  them,  they  sailed  down  the  first  few 
rapids  in  fine  style.  When  the  head  of  Disaster  Falls  was  reached,  instead  of  landing  and  recon- 
noitring, as  the  roar  of  the  cataract  should  have  advised  them  to  do,  they  dashed  heedlessly  along, 
and  were  carried  over  the  falls.  The  raft  was,  of  course,  totally  wrecked,  and  four  of  the  men  were 
drowned.  The  survivors,  one  of  whom  was  Jim  Bridger,  the  celebrated  trapper  and  companion  of 
Kit  Carson,  managed  to  clamber  on  to  the  rocks,  and  there,  inclosed  in  a  living  tomb,  they  spent 
several  weeks,  subsisting  upon  berries,  lizards,  and  snakes,  exhausting  themselves  in  efforts  to  find  a 
way  out  of  the  canon  ;  and,  finally,  after  three  months'  wandering,  came  into  an  immigrant's  camp, 
in  a  famished  and  almost  idiotic  condition." 

Mr.  Beaman  thus  describes  a  sunrise  in  the  Canon  of  Lodore :  "  It  was  after  the  gray  of  the 
morning  had  passed  away,  and  yet  before  the  gates  of  Aurora  had  fully  opened,  that  I  awoke.  The 
shaggy  sides  of  the  canon  were  yet  shadowy  and  dark,  and  a  light,  fleecy  cloud  of  vapor,  white  as 
the  driven  snow,  covered  the  bosom  of  the  river,  suspended,  yet  motionless  as  the  canopy  of  space 
into  which  it  was  soon  to  ascend.  '  I  thought  of  '  the  veil — the  silver  veil,'  with  which  the  prophet 
of  Khorassan  is  said  to  have  covered  his  features,  to  hide  his  dazzling  brow  from  the  sight  of  mortals. 
Soon  the  brightening  and  blushing  skies  denoted  the  glorious  coming  of  the  sun,  and  his  swift  beams 
began  to  tinge  the  peaks  of  the  loftier  mountains  with  golden  color,  that  deepened  as  the  day-god 
neared  the  horizon.  As  the  light  increased,  the  vapor  in  the  gulch  grew  opalescent,  and  seemed  in " 
motion,  soft  and  tenderly  agitated  as  if  by  the  breath  of  an  infant ;  then  its  western  edge  slowly 
lifted,  and,  gradually  disclosing  the  surface  of  the  dark,  clear  waters,  drifted  lightly  and  away  until 
lost  in  the  distant  gloom  of  the  eastern  hills.  A  mist,  nearly  as  penetrating  as  rain,  than  became 
apparent  and  palpable  for  a  brief  space,  when  it  broke  into  billowy  masses,  and  slowly  wreathed  and 
curled  its  way  up  the  canon-walls,  lingering  in  the  glens  and  grottoes  far  up  the  mountains,  as  if 
reluctant  to  leave  a  scene  of  such  witching  charm.  Now  the  tops  of  the  mountains  began  to  flame 
up  with  volcanic  luridness,  and  in  an  instant  the  great  radiator  rose  clearly  from  its  fiery  bath,  flood- 
ing every  thing  with  sudden  brilliancy  and  distinctness,  and  transforming  the  river  at  our  feet  into  a 
stream  of  molten  silver." 

Four  miles  below  Disaster  Falls  are  the  Triplet  Falls.     They  are  three  in  number  and  distant 


o 

p 
Z 


106  LUMBERING    ON    THE  SUSQUEHANNA. 

from  each  other  about  a  hundred  yards.  The  walls  of  the  canon  are  here  over  three  thousand  feet 
high,  and  the  scene  is  extremely  impressive  and  beautiful.  Further  down  we  find  Dennis'  Cliff,  so 
named  after  a  member  of  the  Powell  expedition  of  1869,  who  is  supposed  to  have  been  killed  at  this 
place  by  Indians.  The  cliff  is  nearly  four  thousand  feet  high,  and  at  its  top  ruins  have  been  dis- 
covered supposed  to  be  those  of  a  Spanish  or  Indian  people.  Echo  Park  is  at  the  junction  of  the 
Green  and  Bear  rivers.  "  When  a  gun  is  discharged  at  this  place,"  writes  Mr.  Beaman,  "  total 
silence  follows  the  report  for  a  moment ;  then,  with  startling  suddenness,  the  echo  is  heard  seem- 
ingly at  a  great  distance — say  five  miles  to  the  south,  whence  it  comes  back  in  separate  and  distinct 
reverberations,  as  if  leaping  from  glen  to  glen.  Louder  and  quicker  grows  the  sound  until  appar- 
ently directly  opposite,  when  a  full  volume  of  sound  is  returned  ;  then  once  more  the  echo  is  heard, 
like  the  snapping  of  a  cap,  far  to  the  eastward." 

Split  Mountain  Canon  received  its  name  from  Major  Powell  on  account-of  its  remarkable  phy- 
sical features,  the  river  at  this  point  cutting  into  a  mountain  some  2,500  feet  high,  and  in  places 
reaching  an  altitude  of  3,500  feet.  From  the  summit  there  is  a  fine  view  of  the  whole  length  of  the 
canon  extending  far  into  the  valley  of  the  Mintah.  Near  the  mouth  of  this  canon  are  many  curious 
hieroglyphic  carvings,  representing  the  elk,  deer,  buffalo,  bear,  and  various  birds,  accompanied  by 
other  characters  evidently  illustrative,  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  the  ancient  Aztecs.  The  Canon 
of  Desolation  is  noticeable  for  a  dreary  waste  of  sand  and  rocks  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  It  is 
followed  by  Cole's  Canon,  the  two  being  together  one  hundred  miles  long,  and  containing  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty  rapids,  of  which  forty  are  impassable  to  even  the  smallest  boats. 

But  if  one  wished  to  enumerate  all  the  scenes  on  the  Colorado  from  the  source  of  the  Green  to 
the  outlet  of  Black  Canon,  it  would  require  far  more  space  than  is  now  at  our  command.  The  points 
of  interest  referred  to  in  this  sketch  are  but  a  small  proportion  of  those  that  really  deserve  descrip- 
tion, while  of  many  hardly  any  description  can  be  adequate,  much  less  one  that  is  necessarily  brief 
and  meagre.  To  reproduce  the  beauty  and  sublimity  of  many  of  these  scenes  is  beyond  the  power 
of  any  pen. 


LUMBERING  ON   THE  SUSQUEHANNA. 

THE  Susquehanna  River,  the  pride  of  Pennsylvania,  is  formed  by  the  union  of  its  North- 
sometimes  called  East — Branch  with  its  West  Branch  at  Northumberland,  sixty  miles  above 
Harrisburg.  Traversing  the  entire  State  from  north  to  south,  it  intersects  the  rich  mining  and  coal 
districts  for  which  this  section  of  country  is  remarkable,  and  along  its  banks  are  well-cultivated 
fields  and  prosperous  towns.  Its  picturesque  beauty,  celebrated  in  many  a  poem,  is  largely  due  to  the 
numerous  islands  which  so  frequently  divide  the  stream,  and  to  the  rocky  rapids  that,  at  low  water, 
obstruct  its  navigation.  The  river  is  skirted  from  Harrisburg  to  Sunbury  by  the  Northern  Central 
Railway,  which  ther>  follows  the  bank  of  the  Western  Branch  as  far  as  Williamsport.  Some  of  the 
most  beautiful  of  the  many  lovely  views  that  have  made  the  Erie  Railway  celebrated  above  all  other 
routes  of  travel,  are  to  be  obtained  while  traversing  the  fifty  miles  intervening  between  Cascade 
Bridge,  the  point  near  the  border  line  of  New  York  and  Pennsylvania  where  the  track  strikes 
the  North  Branch  of  the  Susquehanna,  and  Barton,  where  it  takes  its  final  .leave  of  the  river's 
sinuosities. 

Had  we  space,  we  could  without  difficulty  fill  pages  with  descriptions  of  the  numerous  important 
and  interesting  towns  that  lie  contiguous  to  the  river.  Only  four  generations  have  passed  away 
since  the  reclamation  of  the  lands  from  the  Indians,  and  yet  the  landscape,  on  each  side  of  the 
river  and  in  every  direction,  presents  to  view  a  scene  of  peace  and  of  well-cultivated  husbandry 
that  more  than  any  other  section  of  this  country  reminds  the  traveler  of  the  garden  landscapes  of 
England.  All  the  great  railroads  of  the  State  approach  or  intersect  its  waters  at  one  place  or  an- 
other, and  serve  to  transport  to  distant  parts— the  South,  the  West,  the  Metropolis  and  the  Eastern 
centres — the  minerals  that  are  here  exhumed  from  mother  earth.  All  this  would  form  food  for  many 
articles,  but  we  are  obliged  to  jealously  guard  our  limited  space  to  the  delineation  of  the  picturesque 
side  of  American  life. 


io8  THE   HUDSON  RIVER. 

• 

Lumbering  furnishes  many  of  the  Inhabitants  that  live  adjapent  to  the  Susquehanna  and  its 
numerous  tributaries  with  an  occupation,  and  as  a  trade  it  is  not  destitute  of  the  chances  of  adven- 
ture. If  the  lumberman  be  of  a  philosophic  turn  of  mind,  in  what  speculative  reveries  may  he 
not  indulge,  as  he  adroitly  steers  his  unwieldy  flotilla.  The  plank  he  treads  may  support  the  burly 
frame  of  some  great  English  advocate  of  the  rights  of  the  people,  or  be  used  in  the  construction  of  a 
desk  from  which  a  Bismarck  may  issue  his  dictum  to  the  European  world. 

The  preparations  for  the  trip  down  the  river,  though  laborious,  are  often  conducted  like  a  frolic. 
The  felling  of  the  trees  in  mid-winter,  the  cutting  of  shingles,  and  the  drawing  out  on  the  snow,  are 
employments  preferred  by  the  young  men  to  the  tamer  but  less  arduous  work  of  the  farm-yard  ;  and 
in  the  temporary  and  uncomfortable  shanties,  deep  in  the  woods,  subsisting  often  on  nothing  but 
pork  and  whisky,  they  find  metal  more  attractive  than  village  or  fire-side. 

The  small  streams  emptying  into  the  Susquehanna  are  innumerable  ;  and  eight  or  ten  miles 
back  from  the  river  the  arks  are  built,  and  the  materials  of  the  rafts  collected,  ready  to  launch  with 
the  first  thaw.  When  the  floods  come  in  March,  the'noise  of  voices  and  hammering  coming  out  from 
the  woods  above,  warn  the  inhabitants  of  the  villages  on  the  river  banks  of  the  approach  of  an  ark  ; 
and  at  the  rate  of  eight  or  ten  miles  an  hour,  the  rude  structure  shoots  by  the  quiet  hamlets  floating 
high  on  the  water,  manned  with  a  singing  and  saucy  crew,  who  dodge  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and 
work  their  steering-paddles  with  an  adroitness  and  nonchalance  which  sufficiently  show  the  character 
of  the  class.  The  numerous  sudden  bends  which  the  river  takes,  and  from  which  it  derived  its  name 
(Crooked  River),  often  puts  the  steermanship  to  the  test ;  and  when  the  leaves  are  oft"  the  trees,  it  is 
a  curious  sight  to  see  the  bulky  monsters,  shining  with  new  boards,  whirling  around  in  the  swift 
iddies,  and,  when  caught  by  the  current  again,  gliding  off  among  the  trees,  like  a  singing  and  swear- 
ing phantom  of  an  unfinished  barn. 

It  is  a  fact  not  generally  known  that  when  a  river  is  rising,  the  middle  is  the  highest,  and  vice 
versa  when  falling — sufficiently  proved  by  the  experience  of  the  raftsmen,  who,  if  they  start  before 
the  flow  is  at  its  t9p,  cannot  keep  their  crafts  from  the  shore.  A  pent-house,  barely  sufficient  for  a 
man  to  stretch  himself  below,  is  raised  on  the  deck,  with  a  fire-place  of  earth  and  loose  stone  ;  and 
with  what  provision  they  can  afford,  and  plenty  of  whisky,  they  shove  out  into  the  stream.  Thence- 
forward it  is  vogue  la  galere  !  They  have  nothing  to  do  all  day  but  abandon  themselves  to  the  cur- 
rent, sing  and  dance,  and  take  the  turn  at  the  steering-oars  ;  and  when  the  sun  sets,  they  look  out 
for  an  eddy,  and  pull  in  to  the  shore.  The  stopping-places  are  not  very  numerous,  and  are  well 
known  to  all  who  follow  the  trade  ;  and  as  the  river  swarms  with  rafts,  the  getting  to  land  and  mak- 
ing sure  of  a  fastening,  is  a  scene  always  of  great  competition.  When  all  is  settled  for  the  night, 
however,  and  the  fires  are  lit  on  the  long  range  of  the  flotilla,  the  raftsmen  get  together  over  their 
whisky  and  provender,  and  tell  the  thousand  stories  of  their  escapes  and  accidents  ;  and  with  the 
repetition  of  this,  night  after  night,  the  whole  rafting  population  along  the  five  hundred  miles  of  the 
Susquehanna  become  partially  acquainted,  and  form  a  sympathetic  corps. 


THE   HUDSON     RIVER. 

THERE  is  no  river  that  is  so  intimately  associated  with  our  history  and  literature  as  the  North 
or  Hudson.     Many  of  the  most  important  events  of  the  eight  years  of  Revolution  transpired 
in  its  vicinity.     Irving  and  Paulding  found  rich  subjects  for  their  pens  in  its  traditions  and  legendary 
lore,  and  a  host  of  the  minor  poets  have  sung  in  enthusiastic  rhyme  of  its  placid  bosom  and  beauti- 
ful banks. 

Independently  of  all  this,  however,  the  river  has  charms  that  one  need  not  be  versed  in  history 
to  enjoy,  beauties  so  pre-eminent  that  they  touched  the  hearts  of  the  practical  Dutch  navigators,  and 
caused  Hendrick  Hudson's  secretary  to  write  of  it  as  a  "  fair  river  flowing  through  a  goodly  coun- 
try." The  hazy  outlines  of  the  hills  limned  against  the  blue  sky,  the  prosperous  fields  stretching 
away  from  the  banks  as  far  as  eye  can  reach,  the  bold  promontories  that  rise  up  from  the  water  as 
if  to  contest  the  right  of  passage,  and  the  sudden  bends  where  the  river  seems  almost  shut  in  by  the 
tree-covered  hills, — all  these  combine  to  form  a  grand  natural  panorama  ;  and  while  admiring  a  scene 


THE  HUDSON   RIVER. 


109 


so  beautiful  that  it  seems  as  if  all  the  combinations  of  Nature  could  not  produce  one  more  lovely, 
we  glide  by  another  in  which  the  blue  outlines  of  the  hills  seem  softer,  the  rich  verdure  greener, 
and  the  gleam  of  the  crystal  current  more  silvery.  The  western  water-courses  do  not  compare 
with  it :  with  their  strong,  muddy  currents,  and  monotonous  banks  and  outlines,  they  are,  indeed, 
equally  serviceable  for  navigation,  but  they  utterly  lack  the  graceful  flow  and  air  of  peace  and  quiet 
that  distinguish  the  placid  Hudson. 

At  New  York  the  river  possesses  the  advantage  of  sudden  contrast.  It  is  but  a  short  journey 
from  the  crowded  docks  of  the  North  River,  as  the  Hudson  as  it  flows  by  the  city  is  called,  to  scenes 
of  rural  life.  Almost  before  we  are  aware  of  it,  we  have  passed  the  wharves  in  which  lie  the  great 
ocean  steamers,  and  have  left  the  crowded  ferry-boats  and  ugly  flatboats,  with  their  escorts  the  noisy 
tugs,  far  behind  ;  but  hardly  is  the  uproar  and  bustle  of  the  city  lost  in  the  distance,  than  before 
the  passengers  of  the  magnificent  steamers  that  ply  the  Hudson  lie  the  pastoral  beauties  of  the 
American  Rhine.  Intermixed  with  superb  villas,  the  creations  of  modern  wealth,  which  peep  from 
amid  the  foliage  on  Washington  Heights,  one  sees  here  and  there  a  squarely-built  mansion  that  in 
its  pristine  glory  belonged  to  one  of  the  early  settlers  ;  and  the  yachts  and  sail-boats,  frequently  con- 
taining fair  occupants,  lend  an  additional  charm  to  a  dolce  far  niente  scene  like  which  there  is  no 
other  on  this  continent. 

The  Hudson  River  Railroad  skirts  the  river  on  the  eastern  side,  and  frequently  as  the  river-boats 
steam  quickly  onward  on  the  breast  of  the  incoming  tide,  one  is  tempted  to  believe  that  the  boat 
can  hold  its  own  against  its  competitor.  But  the  iron-horse  rolls  forward  with  a  loud  reverberation  on 
the  river's  edge,  and  gradually  gains  until  a  station  stops  its  victorious  progress.  The  delay  thus  occa- 
sioned enables  the  steamboat  to  recover  its  lost  ground  for  a  time ;  but  it  is  again  overtaken  and,  from  the 
same  cause,  again  gets  ahead.  At  last,  however,  either  the  steamer  has  to  make  a  landing,  or  a  greater 
distance  intervenes  between  the  stations,  and  the  train  slowly  and  gradually  disappears  in  the  distance. 

A  point  that  already  approaches  historic  interest  is  Font  Hill,  a  mile  and  a  half  below  Yonkers, 
built  by  the  late  Edwin  Forrest.  Although  a  thorough  American,  the  great  tragedian  had  a  decided 
fondness  for  the  luxuries  of  life,  and  especially  admired  structures  that  implied  the  long  possession 
of  wealth.  On  returning  from  an  English  trip,  he  began  the  erection  of  Font  Hill.  It  was  built  of 
blue  granite,  after  the  plan  of  an  English  castle,  and  has  six  towers,  from  which  an  extensive  view 
of  the  Hudson  may  be  obtained.  In  1838  he  took  possession,  and  continued  to  reside  in  it  until 
his  next  visit  to  England  in  1844.  The  jealousy  between  Macready  and  Forrest  had  by  this  time 
culminated  in  an  open  quarrel,  that  became  national  at  least  so  far  as  the  dramatic  world  was  con- 
cerned. Coming  home  with  a  heart  full  of  bitterness,  and  fearing  the  accusation  that  he  was  aping 
the  English  nobility,  Forrest  sold  his  "  castle  "  to  the  Roman  Catholic  Sisters  of  Charity  of  the  Con- 
vent of  Mount  St.  Vincent,  who  erected  other  buildings  and  use  the  whole  of  them  as  a  school. 

A  little  above  Font  Hill  is  Yonkers,  a  large  and  thriving  village,  about  seventeen  miles  above  the 
metropolis,  where  many  wealthy  New  Yorkers  have  located  since  the  increase  of  railway  communica- 
tion. The  country  round  about  is  hilly  and  picturesque.  Broad  carriage-roads  lead  from  it  in 
nearly  all  directions,  and  there  are  facilities  for  every  variety  of  sport — boating,  fishing,  or  shoot- 
ing. The  celebrated  Philipse  Manor  Hall  is  located  at  Yonkers,  and  is  still  kept  in  good  order. 
It  was  originally  built  in  1682,  and  an  addition  was  made  to  it  in  1745.  The  building  was 
constructed  after  a  liberal  plan.  The 
apartments  are  all  wainscoated,  and  the 
ceilings  lofty,  while  the  principal  cham- 
ber is  frescoed  with  figures.  In  this 
house  was  born  Mary  Philipse,  whose 
beauty  and  prospective  wealth  capti- 
vated Washington  when  he  was  a  young 
man.  The  future  Commander-in-Chief 
lingered  in  her  presence  as  long  as  eti- 
quette and  his  duties  would  aHow,  but 
his  exceeding  diffidence  prevented  him 
from  making  known  to  her  his  passion, 
and  she  became  engaged  to  a  fellow- 
officer,  named  Morris.  When  the  Revo- 
lution broke  out,  Morris  refused  to  side  The  Palisades. 


no  THE  HUDSON   RIVER. 

with  the  colonists.  In  the  fall  of 
1776,  Washington  occupied  the  house 
so  intimately  connected  with  the  ro- 
mance of  his  youth  as  his  military 
headquarters. 

Four  miles  above  Yonkers,  at  Hast- 
ings, are  the  most  picturesque  por- 
tions of  the  "  Palisades."  The  Pali- 
sades extend  along  the  western  shore 
of  the  Hudson  from  Haverstraw  al- 
most to  Hoboken,  and  are  about  thirty- 
five  miles  in  length.  They  are  por- 
tions  of  a  ridge-rock  of  trap-rocks,  and 
derive  their  name  from  the  kind  of 
Stony  Point.  fortification  which  they  resemble. 

"Between    Piedmont    and     Jloboken, 

these  rocks  present,  for  a  considerable  distance,  an  uninterrupted,  rude,  columnar  front,  from  three 
to  five  hundred  feet  in  height.  They  form  a  mural  escarpment,  columnar  in  appearance,  yet  not 
actually  so  in  form.  They  have  a  steep  slope  of  debris,  which  has  been  crumbling  from  the  ridge 
above  during  long  centuries,  through  the  action  of  frost  and  the  elements.  This  ridge  is  narrow, 
being,  in  some  places,  not  more  than  three-quarters  of  a  mile  in  width.  It  is  really  an  enormous, 
projecting  dyke-trap.  On  the  top  and  among  the  dibris,  in  many  places,  is  a  thin  growth  of  trees." 
From  the  river  the  aspect  of  the  Palisades  is  not  very  inviting.  They  have  a  grim,  and  somewhat 
forbidding  appearance,  but  now  and  then  one  can  catch,  through  occasional  breaks  in  the  ridge, 
glimpses  of  the  beautiful  country  behind.  The  highest  point  of  the  Palisades  is  nearly  opposite 
Sing  Sing,  and  rises  666  feet  above  tide-water.  The  Hollanders  called  it  by  the  startling  name  of 
Verdrietigh-Hoeck,  which  being  translated,  means  "Vexatious  Point."  It  obtained  its  name  from 
the  fact  that  at  this  place  they  were  apt  to  meet  with  adverse  winds,  that  crossed  each  other,  and 
made  the  management  of  their  lumbering  vessels  very  difficult. 

Dobbs'  Ferry,  five  miles  above  Yonkers,  was  an  important  point  during  the  Revolution.  Several 
of  the  prominent  movements  in  the  Hudson  River  campaign  took  place  there.  Upon  a  high  bank 
near  the  railway  station,  the  Americans  built  fortifications  at  the  beginning  of  the  conflict,  and  held 
the  place  until  their  defeat  by  Lord  Cornwallis,  in  October,  1776.  Haverstraw,  the  place  where 
Arnold  and  Andre  met,  is  but  a  short  distance  from  this  place. 

Sunnyside,  the  former  residence  of  Washington  Irving,  is  further  up  the  river,  about  three  miles 
below  Tarrytown.  Around  this  place,  of  which  Irving  wrote  so  gracefully,  must  ever  cling  \.\-~i 
pleasantest  of  memories.  It  is  reached  from  the  main  road  by  a  winding  carriage-way  that  passes 
through  green  meadows  and  shady  woodlands,  and  along  the  border  of  a  little  vale,  through  which 
runs  a  sparkling  streamlet  that  ripples  down  toward  the  Hudson  until  it  empties  into  a  little  bay  a 
few  yards  from  Sunnyside.  Irving's  house  was  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  cottage,  half  overrun  with 
ivy,  while  from  the  eastern  window  the  river  could  be  seen  for  a  long  distance.  From  a  description 
of  the  place  by  Mr.  Lossing  we  extract  the  following  : 

"  I  visited  Sunnyside  and  strolled  along  the  brook  at  the  mouth  of  the  glen,  where  it  comes  down 
in  cascades  before  entering  the  once  beautiful  little  bay,  now  cut  off  from  free  union  with  the  river 
by  the  railway.  The  channel  was  full  of  crystal  water.  "The  delicate  foliage  was  casting  delicate 
shadows  where,  at  this  time,  there  is  half  twilight  under  the  umbrageous  branches,  and  the  trees  are 
full  of  warblers.  It  is  a  charming  spot,  and  is  consecrated  by  many  memories  of  Irving  and  his 
friends,  who  frequented  this  romantic  little  dell  when  the  sun  was  at  its  meridian  After  a  while,  I 
climbed  its  banks,  crossed  the  lane,  and  wandered  along  a  shaded  path  to  a  hollow  in  the  hills  filled 
with  water.  This  pond,  which  Mr.  Irving  called  the  '  Mediterranean  Sea,'  was  made  by  damming 
the  stream,  and  thus  a  pretty  cascade  at  its  outlet  was  formed.  It  is  in  the  shape  of  a  '  palm-leaf 
that  comes  from  the  loom.  On  one  side  a  wooded  hill  stretches  down  to  it  abruptly,  leaving  only 
space  enough  for  a  path,  and  on  others  it  washes  the  feet  of  gently  grassy  slopes.  This  is  one  of 
the  many  charming  pictures  to  be  found  at  Sunnyside." 

Mr.  Irving  died  in  November,  1859,  and  was  buried  in  the  family  burying  ground  at  Tarrytown. 
His  funeral  was  one  of  the  largest  ever  known,  and  was  attended  by  all  the  literary  men  of  the  day, 
and  many  other  distinguished  persons. 


THE  HUDSON  RIVER. 


1 1 1 


Near  Tarrytown  is  the  famous  "  Sleepy  Hollow."  A  stream  of  water  runs  through  it,  which 'was 
called  by  the  Indians  Pocantecs,  signifying  a  run  between  two  hills.  There  is  an  old  Dutch  church 
and  churchyard  at  its  opening,  built  in  1690,  of  brick  and  stone — the  brick  being  brought  over  from 
Holland  for  the  purpose — which  would  delight  an  antiquarian.  The  expenses  of  its  erection  were 
defrayed  by  Frederic  Phillips.  Over  its  diminutive  spire  there  is  a  vane  in  which  is  cut  the  mono- 
gram of  its  founder,  and  in  the  tower  hangs  the  old  bell,  bearing  the  inscription  in  Latin  :  "  If 
God  be  for  us,  who  can  be  against  us  ? " 

Sing  Sing  is  a  prosperous  village  containing  about  five  thousand  inhabitants.  It  is  built  upon  a 
slope  of  hills  about  one  hundred  and  eighty  feet  above  the  Hudson,  and  overlooks  Tappan  Bay — a 
widening  of  the  river  which  the  early  Dutch  settler^  called  a  sea.  In  the  upper  portion  of  Sing  Sing 
there  is  a  ravine  yet  retaining  much  of  the  wild  and  picturesque  scenery  that  must  have  characterized 
this  section  of  country  before  the  advent  of  civilization.  Over  it  flows  the  Croton  river  which 
supplies  the  city  of  New  York  with  water.  Its  channel  is  of  massive  masonry  lying  upon  an  ellip- 
tical arch  of  hewn  granite  of  eighty-five  feet  span,  its  keystone  being  more  than  seventy  feet  from 
the  waters  of  the  brook  under  it.  The  Croton  Aqueduct  was  a  most  important  improvement,  the 
water  of  the  city  having  been  exceedingly  impure  and  unhealthy.  There  was,  notwithstanding, 
when  the  project  was  first  agitated,  considerable  opposition  to  passing  the  appropriation  necessary 
for  its  construction.  Work  was  begun  on  the  aqueduct  in  May,  1837,  ancl  progressed  rapidly.  At  the 
head  of  the  aqueduct  a  dam  was  constructed  for  the  purpose  of  forming  a  fountain  reservoir.  "  In 
the  early  part  of  1841  a  flood  produced  by  a  protracted  rain-storm  and  melting  snows,  swept  away 
the  dam  and  carried  with  it,  riverward,  a  quantity  of  earth  and  gravel,  sufficient  to  half  fill  the  beauti- 
ful Croton  Bay.  The  dam  was  immediately  rebuilt,  at  a  greater  altitude,  and  a  lake  was  produced, 
almost  six  miles  in  length,  capable  of  containing  about  500,000,000  gallons  of  water.  It  is  166  feet 
above  mean  tide-water  at  New  York,  and  pours  into  the  aqueduct  from  40,000,000  to  50,000,000 


Entrance  to  the  Highlands  near  Newburgh. 


I  12 


THE    HUDSON  RIVER. 


gallons  every  twenty-four  hours.  The  Croton  Aqueduct  runs  parallel  with  the  Hudson,  at  the  mean 
distance  of  half  a  mile  from  it  throughout  its  entire  length.  Its  course  is  marked  by  culverts  and 
arches  of  solid  masonry,  and  its  line  may  be  observed  at  a  distance  by  white  stone  towers,  about 
fifteen  feet  in  height,  placed  at  intervals  of  a  mile.  These  are  ventilators  of  the  aqueduct  ;  some 
of  them  are  quite  ornamental,  while  others  are  simple,  round  towers,  and  every  third  one  has  a 

square  base,  with  a  door  by  which 
a  person  may  enter  the  aqueduct." 
This  great  work  was  finished  in 
1842,  in  the  autumn  of  that  year. 
The  cost  of  its  erection  was  about 
$12,000,000. 

The  State  Prison  is  also 
situated,  as  is  well  known,  at 
Sing  Sing.  It  is  in  the  southern 
part  on  a  group  of  small  hills 
known  as  Mount  Pleasant.  The 
prison  is  divided  into  male  and 
female  departments,  and  both  were 
built  by  convicts.  The  modern 
prison  system  has  been  adopted 
here,  and  the  prisoners  are  com- 
pelled to  work  at  various  trades 
instead  of  being  placed  in  solitary 
confinement. 

Some  distance  above  Sing 
Sing  is  Stony  Point,  a  mass  of 
granite  rocks,  with  occasional 
patches  of  ever-green  trees  and 
hardy  shrubbery.  The  barrenness 
of  Stony  Point  makes  it  unavail- 
able for  agricultural  purposes,  and 
the  landscape  here  is  almost  the 
same  as  when  the  Continentals 
and  British  were  marching  and 
countermarching  over  its  rocky 
surface.  It  is  in  the  form  of  a 
peninsula.  A  light-house,  a  keep- 
er's lodge,  and  a  fog-bell  stand 
upon  the  spot  formerly  occupied 
by  the  old  fort. 

To  describe  in  detail  the  nu- 
merous points  of  interest  along  the 
Hudson  would  not  only  be  weari- 
some, but  would  require  much 
more  space  than  can  be  devoted 
to  it  here.  The  entrance  to  the 
Highlands,  Peekskill,  Anthony's 
Nose,  the  Storm  King,  Constitu- 
tion Island,  West  Point,  and  many 
other  places,  are  remarkable  alike  for  their  extraordinary  natural  beauty  and  for  their  intimate  asso- 
ciation with  our  early  history. 

At  the  mouth  of  Wappingi's  Creek,  there  is  a  promontory  covered  with  gravel,  from  which  a  fine 
view  of  the  Highlands  and  the  town  of  Newburgh  may  be  obtained.  Newburgh  is  the  oldest  settle- 
ment in  Orange  county,  and  many  historical  associations  are  clustered  around  it.  The  first  settle- 
ment was  made  by  Palatines,  who  began  to  erect  buildings  on  the  site  of  the  present  town  in  1709. 
After  the  lapse  of  a  few  years,  the  inhabitants  became  discontented  with  the  spot,  divided  up,  and 


\ 


THE   HUDSON  RIVER. 


went  to  different  localities.  Other  settlers  supplied  their  places,  however,  and  the  town  flourished. 
The  "  Hasbrouck  House,"  one  of  the  numerous  "  Washington  Headquarters,"  is  at  this  place.  It  is 
now  the  property  of  the  State,  and  a  sum  of  money  is  annually  appropriated  to  keep  it  in  good  con- 
dition. It  contains  a  considerable  collection  of  relics  of  the  wars  of  the  country. 

The  natural  scenery  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Newburgh  is  considered  by 
many  the  grandest  on  the  river.  "  Be- 
fore the  town  is  the  lofty  range  of 
the  Fishkill  Mountains,  on  which 
signal-fires  were  lighted  during  the 
Revolution :  and  the  group  of  the 
Highlands,  through  which  the  Hud- 
son flows.  These  are  reflected  in  a 
broad  and  beautiful  bay,  at  all  times 
animated  with  a  variety  of  watercraft 
and  wild  fowl.  One  of  the  finest  and 
most  comprehensive  views  of  New- 
burgh  Bay  may  be  obtained  from  the 
hill,  just  below  Newburgh  and  Fish- 
kill  railway  station,  looking  south- 
west. At- Newburgh  is  the  eastern 
terminus  of  a  branch  of  the  New 
York  and  Erie  Railway,  which  passes 
through  some  very  picturesque  scen- 
ery." 

Poughkeepsie  is  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  and  thriving  cities  in  the 
State.  It  is  charmingly  situated  on 
the  eastern  bank  of  the  Hudson 
River,  on  a  high  level  plateau  over- 
looking the  country  along  the  river 
from  the  Catskills  to  the  Highlands, 
and  has  a  population  of  twenty-five 
thousand  inhabitants,  among  whom 
are  a  large  number  of  distinguished 
professional  and  literary  gentlemen 
and  many  eminent  retired  merchants. 
It  was  first  settled  by  the  Dutch  to- 
ward the  close  of  the  seventeenth 
century.  The  building  erected  by 
Baltus  Van  Kleek,  in  the  year  1705, 
remained  standing  until  1835.  Pough- 
keepsie is  famous  for  her  schools, 
having  eighteen  private  institu- 
tions of  learning.  Among  these  are 
the  celebrated  Vassar  Female  Col- 
lege and  the  Eastman  Business  Col- 
lege. The  Great  Bridge  to  span 
the  river  here  for  a  direct  East  and 
West  Railroad  line  will  be  a  mag- 
nificent structure.  To  the  enterprise 
and  foresight  of  Mr.  EASTMAN  is  due 
the  inception  of  the  bridge  idea.  When  this  great  work  of  internal  improvement  is  finished,  a  com- 
plete revolution  will  be  effected  in  the  transportation  of  the  products  of  the  great  manufacturing 
centres  of  the  East  and  the  mineral  regions  of  Pennsylvania.  These  can  be  exchanged  without  the 
necessity  of  the  roundabout  and  expensive  journey  by  way  of  New  York. 


THE  HUDSON  RIVER. 


About  six  miles  below  Hudson,  is  Oak  Hill  Station,  opposite  the  mouth  of  the  Catskill  river,  a 
stream  which  flows  down  from  the  hills  of  Schoharie,  a  distance  of  nearly  forty  miles.  The  scenery 
in  the  'Catskills  is  very  beautiful.  At  every  turn  of  the  road  leading  to  the  mountains,  which  skirts 
the  margin  of  a  clear  stream  that  is  heard  oftener  than  it  is  seen,  the  traveler  encounters  some  new 
scene  of  loveliness.  The  mountains  rise  up  abruptly  from  the  plain,  dark  and  solemn,  casting  their 
shadows  below.  The  road  is  very  winding,  "  and  in  its  ascent  along  the  side  of  the  glen,  or  more 
properly  magnificent  gorge,  it  is  so  enclosed  by  the  towering  hills  on  one  side,  and  the  lofty  trees 

that  shoot  up  on  the  other, 
that  little  can  be  seen  be- 
yond a  few  rods,  except 
the  sky  above,  or  glimpses 
of  some  distant  summit, 
until  the  pleasant  nook  in 
the  mountain  is  reached, 
wherein  the  cabin  of  Rip 
Van  Winkle  is  nestled. 
After  that  the  course  of  the 
road  is  more  nearly  parallel 
with  the  river  and  the  plain, 
and  through  frequent  vistas 
glimpses  may  be  caught  of 
the  country  below,  that 
charm  the  eye,  excite  the 
fancy  and  the  imagination, 
and  make  the  heart  throb 
quicker  and  stronger  with 
pleasurable  emotions."  Ir- 
ving's  descriptions  and  his 
version  of  the  legend  of 
"  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  have 
made  the  Catskills  famous. 
The  cabin  which  is  said  to 
have  been  occupied  by  the 
somnolent  Rip,  is  still  stand- 
ing. The  scenery  through 
the  mountains  is  majestic 
and  inspiring.  The  "  Moun- 
tain House  "  is  built  upon 
a  grand  rock-platform  near- 
ly three  thousand  feet  above 
tide-water,  a  considerable 
distance  below  some  of  the 
higher  summits,  it  is  true, 
but  yet  portions  of  four 
States  and  ten  thousand 
square  miles  of  territory 
may  be  seen  from  it.  From 
the  top  of  the  South  Moun- 
tain, three  hundred  feet 
above  the  "  Mountain  House,"  and  of  the  North  Mountain,  which  is  further  off  and  higher,  even  a 
'  more  extensive  view  may  be  obtained.  All  through  the  mountains  there  are  bits  of  scenery  which 
form  the  delight  of  artists.  Sunset  Rock,  an  illustration  of  which  is  given,  is  a  lovely  and  pic- 
turesque scene.  _  At  evening,  when  the  tops  of  the  trees  are  gilded  by  the  radiance  of  the  setting 
sun,  whose  red  gleam  shines  through  the  clouds,  giving  the  sky  the  appearance  of  'a  mingled 
column  of  fire  and  smoke,  the  beauty  of  the  rock  is  of  so  rare  a  type,  that  the  most  practical  of  men 
could  hardly  have  failed  to  give  it  its  present  name. 


THE    GREAT  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREAT   CITIES.  115 

Above  this  point,  as  is  well  known,  the  magnificent  and  sublime  scenery  that  has  marked  the 
course  of  the  Hudson  nearly  from  its  mouth,  gives  place  to  a  landscape,  graceful  and  picturesque 
indeed,  but  utterly  wanting  the  bold  and  imposing  aspects  characteristic  of  the  lower  portion  of 
the  river.  The  great  cities  of  Albany  and  Troy  are  situated  on  it.  The  river  is  formed  by  two 
small  streams  flowing  from  the  Adirondack  Motmtains,  one  rising  in  Hamilton,  and  the  other  in 
Essex  County,  New  York,  which  unite  in  Warren  County,  about  forty  miles  from  the  source  of  each. 
There  is  some  very  picturesque  scenery  near  the  source  of  the  river,  but  as  we  have  so  fully  illus- 
trated and  devoted  so  much  space  to  the  Adirondacks,,we  think  a  further  description  unnecessary. 


THE   GREAT    LAKES    AND    THEIR  GREAT 

CITIES. 


COMPARATIVELY  little  is  known  by  Americans  of  the  group  of  great  inland  seas — 
Ontario,  Erie,  Huron,  Superior,  and  Michigan — which  form  our  northern  frontier.  Their 
position  being  far  to  the  north  of  the  line  of  western  travel  is  one  reason  for  this  ignorance  and 
indifference,  and  the  absolute  supremacy  of  railways  in  the  matter  of  passenger  transportation  is 
another;  but  the  beauty  of  their  surroundings  and  their  singularity  as  the  only  great  fresh-water 
lakes  in  the  world,  should  have  recommended  them  to  the  notice  of  a  larger  number  of  tourists. 
The  popular  "  route  through  the  lakes  "  is  from  Buffalo  to  some  of  the  cities  on  Lake  Michigan  in 
a  steamer.  There  are  five  great  inland  ports  on  the  lakes — Buffalo,  Cleveland,  Detroit,  Milwaukee,  - 
and  Chicago — and  these  cities  owe  their  prosperity,  nay  their  very  existence,  to  their  being  the 


Main  Street,  Buffalo,  opposite  the  Churches. 

entrepots  and  distributing  centres  for  the   immense  freight  traffic  carried  on  on  the  bosom  of  these 
great  bodies  of  water. 

Buffalo  is  situated  in  the  north-eastern  corner'of  New  York  State  on  Lake  Erie.  A  mere  village 
before  the  completion  of  the  Erie  canal,  it  has  since  grown  with  almost  magical  rapidity,  and  is  now 
one  of  the  most  prosperous  and  beautiful  cities  in  America.  As  is  the  case  with  almost  all  of  the 
lake  ports,  the  trees  have  been  carefully  preserved,  and  the  long  shaded  avenues  give  it  a  most  pic- 
turesque appearance.  Two,  and  sometimes  three,  rows  of  elms  and  other  deciduous  trees  line 
either  side  of  many  of  the  streets,  and  to  a  stranger  accustomed  to  the  long  and  dusty  brick  pave- 
ments that  characterize  the  business  avenues  of  most  American  cities,  their  effect  is  both  novel  and 


n6 


THE    GREAT  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREAT   CITIES. 


pleasing.  Main  street,  as  its  name  indicates,  is  the  prin- 
cipal thoroughfare  and  centre  of  the  retail  trade,  and  the 
marked  beauty  of  its  church  edifices  diverts  attention 
from  -the  stately  blocks  devoted  to  the  service  of  mam- 
mon. St.  Paul's  Cathedral  (Episcopalian)  is  the  architec- 
tural ornament  of  the  city.  Its  spire,  of  solid  freestone, 
almost  as  high  as  that  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York,  con- 
tains a  fine  set  of  chimes,  which  are  rung  by  the  only 
trained  band  of  chime-ringers  in  the  country.  Near  it  is 
the  First  Presbyterian  Church,  a  modest  structure  over- 
run with  ivy,  while  but  a  short  distance  away  lies  St. 
Joseph's  Cathedral,  which  boasts  of  possessing,  with  but 
one  exception,  the  finest  chimes  in  the  world.  They  were 
purchased  at  the  French  World's  Fair,  but,  through  ignor- 
ance, were  so  badly  hung  that  much  of  their  effect  is 
lost. 

Delaware,  Niagara,  Court  and  Genesee,  four  streets 
that  cross  each  other  at  different  angles,  are  noted  for 
their  magnificent  residences.  A  superb  system  of  parks 
designed  by  Frederick  Law  Olmsted,  the  architect  of 
Central  Park,  New  York  city,  is  now  in  course  of  con- 
struction, which,  when  completed,  will  add  very  much  to 
the  attractiveness  of  the  city.  The  land  taken  for  park 
purposes  was  formerly  a  common,  and  consists  in  all  of 
about  five  hundred  acres,  situated  in  the  eastern,  north- 
ern, and  western  parts.  It  is  proposed  to  connect  these 
by  a  boulevard  that  will  run  entirely  around  the  upper 
portion  of  the  city,  and  thus  form  a  continuous  drive  of 
nearly  ten  miles. 

Fort  Porter  has  hitherto  been  the  pleasure-ground  of 
the  city.  There  is  nothing  in  the  fort  itself  deserving  of 
special  mention,  but  the  view  from  it  is  superb.  Toward 
Lake  Erie  are  the  spires,  elevators,  and  docks  of  Buffalo, 
with  the  long  pier  on  which  the  new  light-house  is  situated  ; 
beyond  is  the  new  breakwater,  with  its  light,  reduced  by  the 
distance  to  a  mere  line  drawn  across  the  water  :  but  the 
centre  of  attraction  in  this  beautiful  landscape  is  the  lake 
itself  in  its  ever-varying  aspects,  with  its  long  lines  of  foam- 
tipped  waves  now  glistening  with  blinding  brilliancy  in  the 
light  of  the  sun,  or  under  the  influence  of  a  calm  presenting 
those  soft  tints  of  green  for  which  the  lakes  are  remarkable, 
or  again,  under  the  gathering  shadows  of  night,  lying  dark, 
gloomy,  and  saturnine.  To  the  right  is  seen  the  Canadian 
shore,  and  a  dark  patch  of  gray  locates  the  ruins  of  Fort 
Erie.  Further  on  is  the  town  of  Victoria  or  Waterloo  as 
it  is  variously  called,  and  clown  the  Niagara  river  the  new 
International  Bridge  projects  from  shore  to  shore. 

One  of  the  finest  and  most  comprehensive  views  of 
Buffalo  is  the  one  from  the  lake,  an  illustration  of  which  is 
given.  Directly  in  front,  and  stretching  away  off  to  the 
right  of  us,  we  see  a  long  pier  or  breakwater,  erected  at 
immense  cost,  and  still  incomplete,  which  protects  the 
front  of  the  city  from  the  treacherous  waves  of  the  lake, 
and  forms  a  wide  and  spacious  harbor,  in  which  a  navy 
might  ride.  On  the  nearer  end  behold  one  of  those  eyes, 
whose  glances,  scintillating  afar,  have  so  often  at  night 


THE    GREAT  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREAT   CITIES. 


1 1 


proved  a  blessing  and  a  comfort  to  the  storm-tossed  mariner  ; 
for  this  calm,  pleasant-looking  sheet  of  water*  which  is  now  a 
mirror,  reflecting  the  white,  fleecy  clouds  floating  far  above  it, 
can  get  up,  without  the  slightest  apparent  effort,  storms  of  the 
most  appalling  character.  Beyond,  on  an  inner  pier,  projecting 
boldly  from  the  mouth  of  the  creek,  is  another  beacon,  which 
guides  us  directly  to  the  haven  we  seek.  In  front  of  the  entire 
city  stretches  a  sea-wall,  behind  which,  on  the  right,  are  shel- 
tered the  immense  many-shaped  and  dingy-brown  elevators 
which  betoken  the  source  of  the  city's  business  and  wealth  ; 
and  on  the  left,  the  depots,  trestles,  manufactories  and  other 
adjuncts  of  trade  and  commerce.  The  background  is  made  up 
of  massive  business  structures  and  private  residences,  peeping 
above  the  trees ;  while  the  numerous  graceful  spires  rising 
majestically  heavenwards  exhibit  the  good  taste  with  which  the 
city's  accumulated  wealth  has  been  spent. 

We  embark  from  Buffalo  iiv  one  of  the  numerous   steamers 
that  ply  the  lakes,  and,  once  upon  Lake  Krie,  the  first  thing  that  \ 

strikes  the  voyager  is  the  turbidity  of  its  waters,  especially  near  Buffalo  Creek,  looking  out 

the  shores,  arising  from  the  shallowness  of  the  lake.  For  the  benefit  of  those  of  our  readers  who 
may  not  happen  to  be  statisticians,  we  may  say  that  Lake  Erie,  which  has  a  mean  length  of  about 
two  hundred  and  forty  miles,  and  a  breadth  ranging  from  thirty  to  sixty  miles,  rarely  exceeds,  and 
then  only  in  exceptional  places,  one  hundred  and  twenty  feet  in  depth.  It  is  to  this  shallowness  that 
the  severity  of  the  storms  that  visit  this  lake  are  attributed,  and  the  paucity  of  good  harbors  render 
them  the  more  dangerous.  The  only  historical  fact  of  interest  connected  with  the  lake  is  the  naval 
battle  fought  upon  its  waters,  September  10,  1813,  in  which  Lieutenant  Perry,  with  a  squadron  mount- 
ing but  54  guns,  manned  by  490  officers  and  men,  vanquished  the  British  under  Captain  Barclay, 
who  had  63  guns,  and  502  officers  and  men.  The  whole  of  the  English  squadron  was  captured,  and 
the  victory  was  thus  modestly  and  concisely  epitomized  by  Perry,  who,  when  success  was  certain, 
wrote  to  General  Harrison  on  the  back  of  an  old  letter  resting  in  his  naval  cap  :  "  We  have  met  the 
enemy,  and  they  are  ours — two  ships,  two  brigs,  one  schooner,  and  one  sloop." 

To  the  lover  of  the  picturesque  there  is  much  of  interest  in  the  islands  of  Lake  Erie,  ten  or  more 
in  number,  which  lie  off  Sandusky  Bay,  having  an  area  varying  from  2,800  acres  to  a  mere  dot  upon 
the  water.  These  islands  are  now  coming  into  prominence  owing  to  their  adaptability  for  grape 
culture.  The  large  steamers  on  the  way  up  and  down  the  lakes  generally  pass  them  in  the  night, 
and  thus,  in  order  to  see  them,  one  must  take  one  of  the  numerous  small  craft  that  ply  between 
Sandusky  and  the  islands.  Put-in-Bay  Island  has  gained  considerable  reputation  as  a  summer  resort. 
It  has  six  hundred  inhabitants  and  two  large  hotels.  Kelley's  Island,  the  largest  of  the  group,  pos- 
sesses, in  addition  to  its  vineyards,  valuable  quarries  of  limestone,  which  supply  the  furnaces  of  the 
vicinity  with  lime  and  flux  stone. 

The  second  large  port  on  the  lakes  is  Cleveland,  more  poetically  known  as  the  "  Forest  City." 
The  principal  industry  of  Cleveland  is  oil-refining,  and  the  refineries  of  the  city  have  a  capacity  for 
stilling  fifteen  thousand  barrels  a  day.  The  trade  is  very  profitable,  but  there  is  an  unusual  amount 
of  risk  incurred,  the  danger  from  fire  and  explosion  being  very  great.  The  crude  petroleum  is 
brought  from  the  oil-regions  of  Pennsylvania  in  long  trains  of  cylinder-shaped  cars,  that  have  the 
appearance  of  bpilers  on  wheels.  It  is  drawn  from  the  cars  to  a  huge  tank  through  long  ranges  of 
pipes,  and  is  there  kept  until  required  for  use  at  the  stills.  The  architecture  of  the  city  gives  out- 
ward evidence  of  its  prosperity.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find,  outside  of  New  York  city,  an  Amer- 
ican street  as  beautiful  as  Euclid  Avenue.  It  is  lined  for  a  distance  of  three  miles  with  large 
and  costly  mansions,  erected  in  the  middle  of  extensive  grounds ;  and  the  smooth  green  lawns, 
the  conservatories,  and  the  noble  trees  lining  the  sidewalks,  give  it  an  appearance  of  wealth  and 
refinement. 

From  Cleveland  the  lake  steamers  bound  for  Lakes  Huron  and  Superior,  pass  Detroit,  the 
"  City  of  Straits."  Detroit  produces  a  highly  pleasing  impression  upon  the  traveler.  Though  it  is 
said  to  be  one  of  the  oldest  towns  in  the  country,  it  looks  fresh,  bright  and  modern.  The  streets 
are  wide,  the  squares  numerous,  and  the  houses  in  the  business  portion  of  the  city  lofty  and 


n8 


THE    GREA  T  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREA  T   CITIES. 


handsome,  while  the  up-town  parts  of  the  leading  avenues  are  bordered  with  handsome. private 
residences,  the  majority  of  which  are  in  cosy  and  shady  gardens.  There  are  few  American  towns 
where  trees  and  shrubbery  are  more  plentiful.  The  moment  you  leave  the  business  quarter 
you  see  gardens  all  around,  which  the  abundant  vapors  of  the  two  lakes  and  the  Detroit  river 

keep  in  luxuriant  condition.  One  can,  of  course,  not 
look  for  picturesque  elements  in  or  about  Detroit,  the 
country  being  flat  and  full  of  monotony,  relieved  only 
by  the  large  expanses  of  water.  But  there  is  something 
winningly  neat  and  intensely  patriarchal  in  the  little 
wooden  cottages,  growing  like  mushrooms,  and  pushing 
the  outskirts  of  the  town  further  and  further  out  into 
the  country.  Nearly  all  of  them  are  painted  white,  have 
brightly  colored  roofs,  and  a  piece  of  ground  planted 
with  shrubs  and  flowers,  the  general  picture  thus  ob- 
taini  ig  a  bright  and  shiny  touch  not  frequently  to  be 
beheld  in  more  go-ahead  communities  of  this  part  of 
the  world. 

After  Detroit  comes  Milwaukee,  Chicago's  most 
dangerous  rival.  Milwaukee  is  the  eastern  outlet  for 
the  great  grain  crops  of  Wisconsin.  It  has  the  best 
harbor  on  Lake  Michigan,  and  since  the  Chicago  fire  it 
has  taken  its  position  as  a  leading  inland  port.  There 
was  not  in  the  year  1834  a  sufficient  number  of  white 
inhabitants  in  Milwaukee  county  to  fill  the  offices  neces- 
sary for  its  organization  :  to-day  its  county-seat  has  a 
population  of  more  than  one  hundred  thousand,  and  its 
beautiful  bay,  with  its  immense  and  costly  breakwater, 
bears  upon  its  breast  a  commerce  represented  by  eight 
thousand  arrivals  of  vessels  every  year.  In. grace  of 
curvature,  beauty  of  color,  and  the  boldness  of  its  bluffs, 
it  compares  favorably  with  the  finest  sheets  of  water 
in  the  world,  and  is  thought  to  resemble  the  Bay  of 
Naples. 

Milwaukee  is  the  largest  grain  market  in  the  world, 
and  the  transactions  of  its  Chamber  of  Commerce 
amount  to  over  a  hundred  million  dollars  a  year.  The 
elevators,  therefore,  are  an  essential  element  of  the 
city's  prosperity.  Our  river  illustration  shows,  in  the 
fore-ground,  the  oldest  elevator  in  the  northwest,  a 
structure  as  antiquated  in  its  appliances  as  in  appear- 
ance, but  yet  substantial  enough  for  years  of  further 
service.  The  shipping  and  manufacture  of  iron  is  also 
an  important  interest  and  one  which  will,  in  all  probabil- 
ity, grow  so  rapidly  in  the  future  as  to  rival  the  immense 
business  in  cereals  and  produce — the  product  of  the 
rich  and  almost  untouched  mineral  regions  of  the  north- 
west coming  naturally  to  Milwaukee,  where  it  finds  a 
home  market.and  whence  ten  tributary  railroads  carry  it 
to  other  manufacturing  centres.  The  brewing  interest 
is  also  largely  represented,  and  so  celebrated  is  its  lager 
beer  that  it  commands  the  highest  price  the  country  over. 
The  natural  attractions  of  Milwaukee  are  numerous. 
Lake  Michigan  stretches  out  as  broad  and  blue  and  beautiful  as  the  sea,  and  washes  upon  the  beach 
waters  of  perfect  purity.  The  river  above  the  city  is  a  shady  sylvan  stream.  The  high  bluffs  at 
the  lake  shore  sink  to  the  river  and  rise  again  on  the  west  side,  affording  charming  atmospheric 
effects  and  vistas  of  climbing  buildings.  The  city  is  principally  built  of  white  brick,  from  which  it 


THE    GREAT  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREAT   CITIES. 


119 


derives  its  title  of  the  Cream  City.  The  country  round  about  is  fertile  and  varied,  and  full  of 
pleasant  rambles. 

The  Milwaukee  river  has  nowhere  a  width  exceeding  three  hundred  feet,  but  it  is  deep  enough  for 
the  passage  of  the  largest  vessels.  It  is  spanned  by  drawbridges  at  about  every  second  street,  and 
passes  through  the  city  like  a  great  canal.  With  its  tributaries,  the  Menomonee  and  Kinnikinnick, 
and  its  extensive  system  of  side  cuts,  it  affords  over  thirty  miles  of  dockage  within  the  city  limits. 
Spars  and  sails  are  seen  passing  between  stately  buildings  with  an  effect  as  curious  as  would  be  the 
spectacle  of  a  ship  crossing  Broadway  at  Grand  Street.  The  swinging  of  the  bridges  is  a  momen- 
tarily recurring  excitement,  and  one  not  soothing  to  the  temper. 

The  population  of  Milwaukee  is  made  up  of  different  nationalities.  The  great  body  of  the  inhab- 
itants are  Germans ;  but  Bohemia,  Poland,  Denmark,  Sweden,  Ireland,  and  many  other  countries 
are  strongly  represented.  To  this  confusion  of  nationalities  is  due  the  retention  of  customs  which 
are  usually  abandoned  by  immigrants  in  their  new  home.  Wooden  shoes  are  seen  on  the  streets  ; 
women  wear  red  stockings  and  surround  their  heads  with  white  cloths  after  the  fashion  of  the  Ger- 
man peasants  ;  and  wedding  parties  are  sometimes  seen  on  Sunday,  walking  the  streets  decked  with 
ribbons  and  flowers. 

From  Milwaukee  to  the  Garden  City  is  but  a  few  hours'  pleasant  sail,  and  on  our  way  we  meet 
the  long  train  of  heavily  laden  boats  bearing  the  rich  products  of  the  West  for  Eastern  and 
European  markets.  Chicago  presents  the  most  extraordinary  example  of  rapid  and,  until  the  fire, 
uninterrupted  progress  of  any  city  in  this,  or  any  other  country,  and  to  it  there  exists  no  parallel  in 


Milwaukee  River. 

ancient  or  modern  times.  There  are  men  now  living  who  recollect  the  site  of  the  present  city  as  a 
wet  prairie,  and  in  1830  there  were  but  seventy  inhabitants.  When,  as  has  been  eloquently  said,  it 
is  remembered  that  this  insignificant  nucleus  has  grown  within  one  generation  to  over  four  hundred 
and  fifty  thousand,  the  present  local  estimate  of  the  city's  population,  the  question  presses  for  solu- 
tion— by  what  magic  has  this  marvelous  result  been  achieved  ?  What  peculiar  combination  of  forces 
or  circumstances  has  wrought  a  progress  so  wonderful  and  so  entirely  unparalleled  ? 

The  story  of  the  settlement  of  Chicago  is  thus  told  in  Appleton's  American  Encyclopedia: 
"  Under  them  (the  canal  commissioners  of  the  Illinois  and  Michigan  canal)  James  Thompson  sur- 
veyed the  town  of  Chicago,  his  first  map  being  dated  August  4,  1830 ;  it  embraced  the  area  of  three- 
eighths  of  a  square  mile.  In  1831,  it  contained  twelve  families,  besides  the  garrison  in  Fort  Dear- 
born. The  town  of  Chicago  was  organized  August  10,  1833,  with  five  trustees ;  it  contained  560 
acres,  550  inhabitants,  29  voters,  175  buildings,  and  property  valued  at  $60,000 ;  the  taxable  valua- 
tion was  $19,560,  and  the  first  year's  taxes  were  $48.90.  On  September  26,  1833,  7,000  Pottawatta- 
mies  assembled  there  in  council,  and  signed  a  treaty  to  remove  beyond  the  Mississippi ;  they  ceded 
some  20,000,000  acres  to  the  United  States  for  $1,100,000.  Chicago  was  incorporated  as  a  city 
March  4,  1837.  The  first  election  under  the  charter  was  held  May  i  following,  when  W.  B.  Ogden 
was  chosen  mayor.  The  first  census  was  taken  July  i,  1837,  when  the  city  contained  a  population 
of  4,170."  It  was  not,  however,  until  1845  that  the  city  became  the  entrepot  of  the  immense  grain- 
producing  country  in  the  interior.  It  is  well  known  that  the  early  settlers  always  chose  as  their 


I2O 


THE    GREAT  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREAT   CITIES. 


abiding  place  a  suitable  loca- 
tion on  some  river,  whence 
their  products  could  be  floated 
to  market ;  and  as  the  means 
of  communication  which  now 
make  Chicago  the  Emporium 
of  the  West  are  wholly,  as 
regards  communication  with 
the  interior,  artificial,  it  is 
plain  that  for  many  years  she 
labored  under  many  disadvan- 
tages. But  civilization  ad- 
vanced with  rapid  strides  and 
claimed  as  her  own  the  fertile 
prairies  of  Illinois,  so  that 
when  the  pioneers  of  the  net- 
work of  railroads  that  now 
intersect  the  State  were  built, 
the  great  commercial  position 
of  Chicago  became  evident. 
A  new  era  dawned  on  the 
city,  and  in  1845  tne  shipments 
of  wheat  eastward,  which  only 
commenced  in  1842,  amount- 
ed to  1,000,000  bushels,  and 
rapidly  increased  until  in 
1866,  they  reached  65,000,000 
bushels  ! 

The  buildings,  and  parti- 
cularly the  residences,  before 
the  fire,  were  to  a  great  ex- 
tent constructed  of  wood, 
which  was  one  cause  of  the 
conflagration.  This  terrible 
calamity  must  be  so  fresh  to 
the  minds  of  all  our  readers 
that  it  is  hardly  necessary  to 
dwell  upon  it  here ;  but  as 
this  volume  will  probably  find 
its  way  to  many  country  read- 
ers to  whom  statistics  are  not 
always  accessible,  we  subjoin 
a  few  facts  and  figures.  "  The 
total  area  burnt  over,  includ- 
ing streets,  was  2,100  acres, 
or  nearly  3^  square  miles ; 
number  of  buildings  destroyed 
17,450;  persons  rendered 
homeless,  98, 500;  killed,  about 
200.  Among  the  buildings 
were  the  court-house,  custom- 
house, and  post-office,  cham- 
ber of  commerce,  gas  works, 
three  railroad  depots,  nine 
daily  newspaper  offices,  thirty- 
two  hotels,  ten  theatres  and 


THE    GREAT  LAKES  AND    THEIR    GREAT   CITIES.  121 

halls,  eight  public  schools  and  several  branches,  forty-one  churches,  five  elevators  containing 
1,642,000  bushels  of  grain,  and  all  the  national  banks  but  one."  The  loss  occasioned  by  the  fire 
amounted  in  round  figures  to  $200,000,000,  of  which  one-half  was  covered  by  insurance  ;  but  owing 
to  the  failure  of  all  the  local  insurance  companies,  and  many  companies  in  other  cities,  a  considerable 
portion  of  this  amount  was  not  collectable. 

Scarcely  a  trace  now  exists  of  this  terrible  conflagration,  which  may  be  called  the  most  tragic 
event  of  modern  times.  The  great  fire  in  Boston  swept  out  of  existence  property  which,  in  point  of 
mere  money  value,  might  compare  with,  if  not  rival,  Chicago's  terrible  loss.  But  in  Boston  it  was 
only  a  loss  of  business  property  and  merchandise,  which,  in  most  instances,  was  experienced  by 
those  who  possessed,  or  had  the  means  of  getting,  much  more  ;  whereas  among  the  sufferers  in 
Chicago  were  thousands  of  clerks  and  mechanics  who  had  devoted  their  whole  lives  to  the  accumula- 
tion of  their  little  property,  and  who  not  only  lost  their  all,  but,  for  the  time  at  least,  having  nothing 
but  the  clothing  they  had  hurriedly  huddled  on,  were  reduced  to  the  acceptance  of  the  charity  which 
was  so  quickly  extended  from  every  quarter. 

The  loss  was  enormous,  but  capital  quickly  poured  in  from  abroad  and  the  eastern  centres,  and  the 
rapidity  with  which  the  work  of  reconstruction  was  accomplished  can  be  only  described  as  being  little 
short  of  marvelous.  Along  Washington,  Madison,  Monroe,  State  and  Clark  streets,  and  the  streets 
that  run  parallel  with  and  across  them,  have  since  been  erected  the  most  superb  blocks  devoted  to 
business  purposes  to  be  found  in  this,  or  we  think,  any  other  country.  Description  fails  to  give  any 
idea  of  the  regularity  of  design  with  which  the  buildings  have  been  erected,  and  the  great  width  of 
the  streets  shows  them  to  great  advantage. 


THIS  BOOK   IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED   BELOW 


BOOKS   REQUESTED    BY   ANOTHER   BORROWER 
ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL  AFTER  ONE  WEEK 
RENEWED   BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO 
IMMEDIATE  RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 


Hook  Slip-Series  4f>K 


Williams,  J  D.yid,«/. 


1  AQ  *  — 

America  illustrated,  ed.  by  J.  David  Williams.    New  York, 

,877      J.  David  Williams,   1877 . 

J21  p.    Ulu».    32-. 


1.  U.  8.— De*?r.  *  tn»T.-View«.   ^.    Title. 

2-3797 
Library  of  Con^ras*  )  EIC8.W72 


